Little Bo Peep Detective Agency
by Quinnessence
Summary: Rachel Berry's pet has gone missing. She hires Quinn's team of pet detectives to find him. Will Quinn track down the wayward feline and mend Rachel's broken heart?  A/U, fluffy, Faberry with the usual cast of characters.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This was my NANOWRIMO submission. It's silly and fluffy - seriously. Rated M for _maybe down the road_. It will update, but CRB is still the primary focus. I'm just putting out here so I'll finish it.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters. I just borrow them and send them on adventures. No harm or foul intended.

Here Kitty, Kitty Kitty

**Lost your lamb? Your kitten missin'? Your puppy gone astray? At the Little Bo Peep Pet Detective Agency rounding up missing pets is our specialty. Let us help put your heart and mind at ease. Our trained investigators will look high and low, hither and yon, and in every nook and cranny for your missing flock. Excellent results. Happy reunion references available. Reasonable rates. Senior and broken-hearted children discounts. Give us a call today.**

Rachel Berry stood on her tiptoes, her fingertip rubbing the textured surface of the card stock as she mulled over the business card on the pet store bulletin board, her expression hopeful. She had been perusing lost pet notices when the business card caught her attention.

It had been nearly 48 hours since her precious cat, Mr. Arnstein, had unexpectedly and uncharacteristically darted out the door of her townhouse and disappeared and she was clearly at her wits end. But hiring a pet detective? Seriously? She didn't even know what to think of such a thing. Was it completely foolish? Was it all really all just a big scam to prey on devastated owners who would give anything to see their pets again?

Rachel sighed heavily. She truly wanted nothing more than to believe that somehow, someway, her beloved Tuxedo cat could be found. She couldn't bear the thought of him out there somewhere, huddled shivering, scared and hungry.

She had already spent an entire day doing nothing but staring at photos and sobbing and it proved exactly as useless as it made her feel. At least this was something. Doing something always felt better than doing nothing and that was what she had been doing. A big fat useless, hopeless nothing.

Besides, if they came off as shady or asked for an outrageous fee up front she could always politely decline and be no worse off than she already was. Seriously, what could it hurt?

She reached up and pulled the thumbtack loose and pulled off the top business card in the slim stack, then replaced the thumbtack precisely, slipping it carefully back into the same spot. She tweaked the remaining cards so they were neatly aligned and ready for their next prospective client.

She could feel tears looming again and she blinked hard trying to force them away.

She had an audition and simply could not afford the luxury of breaking down. The best she could hope is that she could effectively channel all her anguish into the scene she'd prepared and it would give her the edge over her competition.

She was already running late this morning but she made herself a promise that she would call the first chance she got. With a heavy sigh, she slipped the card into her purse.

**~~ooOoo~~**

Quinn sat back against the car seat and held the binoculars up to her face. From her present location she had a nice wide unobstructed view of practically the entire front yard with only the occasional jogger or stroller brigade to obstruct her surveillance.

This charming little Craftsman bungalow with its wide lush green lawn and carefully manicured, vibrant flowerbeds had been the first scout location on her list from the moment she saw it. She knew her suspect well and this was something that more than likely would prove irresistible to him. If her suspicions were correct, all she had to do was patiently watch and wait and eventually he'd make an appearance.

Now came the part that most of her employees hated about the job – the actual staking out part of the stake-out. Where the investigator had to sit and watch quietly, sometimes for hours, just waiting on the chance they might catch a glimpse of their suspect. Sometimes they were acting on an informant tip and sometimes, like today, on just experience and gut instinct alone.

Quinn, on the other hand, loved it. She spent hours on surveillance or walking and canvassing neighborhoods. She'd do anything not to be cooped up in the office all the time. She liked the field work much more than dealing with actual clients. Truth be told, people annoyed her. She could put on her best game face and make nice when she had to, but it exhausted her. She much preferred dealing with the fugitives – they were more to her liking.

Again, Quinn raised the binoculars and carefully glassed along the property looking for any sign of movement or any tell-tale evidence to indicate that their suspect had already been and gone that day. Timing was everything and she was hoping that this early morning cool and exquisite location would lure him out into the open.

She slipped the buds of her iPod into her ears and queued up her favorite stake-out play list and settled in, her vivid hazel eyes focused and constantly moving across the perimeter. Something good was going to happen for her today. She could literally feel it – an excited, nervous energy that crackled all around her.

Today was going to be a lucky duck day.

She'd been at it for a little over two hours and was absently munching on a carrot stick when she thought she saw something move by the flowerbed under the garage window. It was just a quick rustling of brush and a shadow and even though she had been looking right at it, she still couldn't be sure it wasn't just her imagination. She held the field glasses up to her eye and watched intently, fixed on that general area.

There, right there, again. It was definitely a rustling of the shrub and the Mexican heather fanned next to it like something brushed up against it. And there, it was a quick flash of silver against the bright green, she was certain of it. She watched patiently for another five minutes, her eyes not moving away from that spot. Finally, she saw it, a nose pushed out from behind the large leaves of the variegated hosta and twitched a few times, then retreated. Another minute passed and it reappeared again, this time followed by twitching white whiskers, soft doe eyes and two long floppy ears that just nearly touched the ground.

"Hello Reginald," Quinn said with a slow smile. "Boy, I'm very happy to see you."

She watched as the big silver lop-eared rabbit hopped timidly out from the cover of the flower bed and began to graze on the thick lush bluegrass of the lawn.

Quinn pulled out her digital camera and adjusted the focus and snapped several photos of the fluffy fugitive. She pulled up the pictures to be certain they were in focus and was just putting her hand on the car door when her cell phone rang. She glanced at the screen. It was the office phone rolling to her number. She frowned. Hopefully that meant that everyone was out busy working open cases and not late or just generally goofing around because she wasn't there to keep them in line, but she knew better.

She debated whether to answer it. She really wanted to finish the task at hand, but she also couldn't afford to risk losing a potential client. People often got cold feet when asked to leave their calling information. But, she'd made a new rule that whoever took the call, took the client's case. If she answered, she was was going to be saddled with the client and she rarely took clients herself if she could avoid it.

She looked and saw that Reginald was still happily munch away so she reluctantly accepted the call. It was just one client after all.

"Bo Peep Pet Detectives, can we find one of your flock for you today?"

"Um, well, yes, actually." Rachel said, not expecting the greeting.

"I'm very sorry to hear that your pet has gone astray. My name is Quinn. How can I help you?"

"I'm not sure, exactly," Rachel answered. "I found this card at the pet shop by my house and I wanted, well I hoped that..."

Quinn was listening closely and trying not to take her eyes off the house.

"It's my cat," Rachel said, opting for the direct approach. "He ran away and I'm just so worried. I searched for hours but it just seems..."

"Overwhelming?" Quinn asked.

"Hopeless," Rachel admitted, reluctantly.

She could hear the anguish and the looming tears in her voice. She wasn't used to regularly dealing with distraught pet owners and it always still affected her deeply each time. Despite what her staff might think, she was extremely empathetic, she just didn't show it very often.

"I know it can be a very scary thing," Quinn told her gently. "But you'd be surprised how many times it all works out with a happy ending."

"Really?" Rachel asked hopefully.

"Really," Quinn told her. "We're very good at what we do. We have a very high rate of success."

"Well, "Rachel said, hesitantly. "I just don't know..."

"Why don't you come into the office and I'll be happy to explain how it all works," Quinn suggested.

"I suppose that would be alright," Rachel said.

"What's a good time for you?" Quinn asked. "I will tell you the sooner the better often applies in these cases."

That wasn't a gimmick or a ploy. It was frustrating when people waited several weeks and then called expecting miracles. The sooner they could start looking the better their chances of success.

"I could come by this afternoon if that would work?" she said.

Quinn checked her watch. She knew once it got into the heat of the day there was no point in continuing so she'd sit for another hour and then try again later. This was her only field work scheduled.

"That would be fine," she said."If you tell me what time works best for you, I'll make sure to be there."

"Two o'clock?" Rachel suggested.

"That's perfect, " Quinn said. "May I get your name? "

"Yes, I'm sorry," Rachel said. "Rachel, Rachel Berry."

"Very good, Miss Berry," Quinn told her. "I'll see you this afternoon. Do you need any directions?"

Rachel looked at the card and recognized the address. She knew the area and was confident she could find her way.

"No, I think I'll be able to get there without any problems, " she said truthfully. "I'll see you then."

"I look forward to meeting you," Quinn told her.

"I... really hope you can help me," Rachel said, tearfully. She stifled a small sob.

"We'll do everything we can," Quinn reassured her. " I know it's hard, but please try not to worry."

"I'll try," Rachel said pitifully, knowing it was a lie.

"Good, "Quinn said, knowing she was asking the impossible. "I look forward to speaking with you again soon."

"Good-bye," Rachel said sniffling.

Quinn saved the number in her contact information. It was easier than finding a pencil and paper. She'd copy it down later.

Right now she was hunting wabbits.

**~~oOo~~**


	2. Chapter 2 Stray Cat Blues

A/N: Like I said, silly and fluffy. It be what it be. Love it, hate it, or even sort-of meh – it's all good. I'll take it and run with it. Thanks always to those of you who clicked by for sharing a bit of your day with me here.

Little Bo Peep Detective Agency

Chapter Two: Stray Cat Blues

Quinn slipped her phone in her pocked then picked up her camera and opened the car door. She reached into the back seat and retrieved a cardboard crate and a couple of carrots. She gently shut the car door and walked down the street and past the house, then she came into the yard from the front on the far side.

Normally she liked to make contact with the homeowner and explain what she was doing and ask their permission first, but hopefully she could make quick work of securing runaway Reginald and then explain her intentional trespassing.

She moved quickly and quietly past the front porch and stayed just out of his line of vision. Reginald was tame, or so they said, but even a tame rabbit was skittish of strangers. She had every reason to suspect that he would hightail it for cover the minute he became away of her presence. Nevertheless, she wanted to at least try. She place the box and her camera carefully on the grass and, armed with her carrots, got down on her hands and knees and started around the corner.

"Comes when you whistle."

She remembered seeing it on the client information card.

She pursed her lips and blew a soft trill of a whistle.

Reginald stopped chewing and perked up. He was definitely interested. As to whether his plan was to investigate further or flee in terror remained to be seen.

Quinn whistled again, a little louder this time.

Reginald twitch his nose, shifted his ears and actually lifted up on his haunches.

Third time, Reginald. Third time.

Once again, Quinn pursed her lips and whistled, this time a standard three-note call that she hoped wouldn't bring dogs from everywhere.

Reginald swiveled and finally saw her, kneeling in the grass about ten feet away from him. Slowly, she held out a carrot for him to see and whistled again.

He definitely reacted to the carrot. Immediately he dropped to his front paws and started hopping steadily, closing the gap between them. She waited until he was no more than a foot away from her before she put the carrot on the ground. He sniffed and rolled it a few times, then started nibbling at it. Before he could react, she quickly brought her hand up beneath his ears and scruffed him, picking him up by the loose skin at the back of his neck.

He wriggled and bunny-kicked anxiously when he felt himself being lifted off the ground, but she pulled him tight against her chest and he immediately calmed down.

"Good man, Reggie," she told him soothingly, stroking him with her free hand. She moved quickly to her feet and secured him in the cardboard crate with not one, but two carrots. Once inside, he seemed much more content with eating than making any new effort to regain his lost freedom.

Based on past experience, she carefully secured the top of the carton with a couple of heavy-duty rubber bands and carried the carton and her camera to the porch where she rang the doorbell.

When a well-manicured soccer mom with several small children latched to her hip answered, she offered her business card and quickly recounted the details of taking her lupine escapee into custody. She just wanted the homeowner to be aware just in case some helpful neighbor might have been watching and contacted them later about some lunatic crawling around in their front yard stalking and snatching up hapless rabbits.

The woman was extremely gracious she and Quinn watched smiling as the children peered eagerly at the big rabbit through the air holes in the crate. Quinn pulled out her camera and knelt down to show the kids her pictures of the "fugitive" as he was stealing nibbles of their carefully cultivate grass.

While the kids "oohed" and "aahhed" their mother, perhaps desperate for adult conversation, inquired about their company and asked Quinn for some of her business cards, telling her that she'd be happy to pass them out to her friends and neighbors. Quinn thanked her profusely and gave her all the ones she was carrying.

With a last wave goodbye to the children, she carried Reginald to the car and secured him in her backseat then climbed back behind the wheel. Checking the clock she saw that she wouldn't have time to try and return Reggie before her appointment, so she just headed straight back to the office.

Once there, she parked on the side of office and went in through the back door, carrying Reginald's crate and her backpack.

"Say hey, Quinn Fabray," she heard immediately as she stepped inside.

"What trouble have you been in today?" she asked, smiling at the well-muscled, darkly-handsome man cleaning out pet carriers in their utility room.

Noah Puckerman was her current roommate, business associate and all-around partner in crime.

"Now that hurts me, Q.," he said, clutching his heart dramatically, leaving a dirty wet spot on his t-shirt. "I've been here making the world a better place for all of animal kind."

"Noah," she said, putting the cardboard crate on the floor and setting her bag on the break table. "That's such a crock of shit. I already had one client call roll to my phone. That usually means that voice mail is full and no one's picking up here."

"I may have stepped out for coffee," he said, his eyes shifting away from her. "And I may have let the phone roll to voice mail while I did."

"More like you spent the morning hitting on the girls in the coffee shop up the block," she said knowingly.

She sniffed at him.

"You have a definite odor of patchouli and kona-blend about you," she told him, wrinkling her nose. "That and wet dog. No, wait, that's just you."

He stared hard at her.

"Pretty bold talk for a woman standing in the line of fire, " he warned, wiggling the sprayer hose nozzle at her.

She quirked her eyebrow and pursed her lips.

"Puck," she said, fixing him with a glare he knew all too well. "I'd seriously reconsider anything you might be thinking about pulling that trigger. Let's not forget, I know where you sleep."

He flinched, but didn't lower the spray nozzle.

"And you're a very heavy sleeper," she said. "I guess you've forgotten the paintball incident."

On a beer-fueled dare, Noah had once made the mistake of tagging Quinn in the ass with a pink paintball. All his boys had roared their rowdy misogynistic approval and she hadn't made much of it at the time, except to rub the spot to their juvenile delight and call him names. He was convinced he'd gotten off easy until he woke the next morning to find one of his eyebrows shaved off completely, the other patterned with a heart and a flower and a big daisy shaved into his chest hair.

By Quinn standards of retribution, it was mild.

Horrified, he immediately pulled at the waistband of his boxers and glanced down, fearing the worst. He breathed a huge sigh of relief.

Once, after he'd made a drunken pass at her at a party, Quinn had henna'd smiley faces on his balls and elephant ears on his groin that had lasted for weeks. It was the longest he'd ever gone without sex in his life. He tried a couple of times, but after the giggling 'Dumbo' or 'Horton' or 'aren't they cute' comments he couldn't get any, uh, measurable results.

"You're no damned fun," he grumbled and nodded at the box. "Who's the captive?"

"Reginald," she announced, picking up the crate and setting it on the table. She pulled off the rubber bands and carefully pulled the top apart, Reginald poked his fluffy head up and looked around. Quinn scratched between his ears and he nudged at her hand with his nose.

"What kind of weirdo freak kid names their rabbit, 'Reginald'?" Puck asked, shaking his head. "Probably a little egghead with glasses."

"One who's father wrote a nice fat check. A check that actually cleared, mind you." she told him, smirking. "And you're one to be calling somebody an egghead, Humpty Dumpty. "

She picked Reginald up and set him down inside one of several big empty cages that lined the side wall. Puck pulled down a heavy flat metal dish and filled it with water and handed it to her. She put the dish in his cage and rummaged in the cabinets and found a box of alfalfa pellets. She filled his food dish then closed the door and latched it. Reginald hopped around sniffing and nudging at his new surroundings.

"I'll have you know, my head is perfectly well-proportioned," he said indignantly. "Just like the rest of the Puckasaurus. Look at this, just look."

She turned and he flexed a bicep in her face. She rolled her eyes, unimpressed.

"Augh, it reeks of testosterone in here," she said. "And wet Puckasaurus."

She picked up her backpack and walked out of the utility room, through the store room and into her private office. She heard Noah talking to Reggie and she smiled. She had no doubt he was showing him his mad guns.

Quinn had two soft spots: kids and animals. Somehow Puck fit for both.

She glanced at her watch. It was a quarter until 2. She parked her backpack on the floor behind her desk, then walked out into the front office. Their sometime receptionist, Brittany was standing at the front window, staring out into the parking lot. Brittany was a dancer who worked for them between auditions and jobs.

"Hey B," she said, running her hand affectionately across the pretty blonde's strong shoulders. "Whatchya doing?" Quinn asked cautiously. To say Brittany was quirky was an understatement. She was likely to say just about anything.

"Watching this girl," she said. furrowing her brow deeply. "She's making me sad."

"Okay," said Quinn, her curiosity peaked. "What's she doing?"

"Crying in her car," she said, her voice concerned. "It's so hot today. Maybe I should go out there. She'll be dehydrated if she doesn't stop crying soon."

Quinn frowned and moved to look over Brittany's shoulder. Sure enough, there was what appeared to be a young woman sitting in a car in their parking lot, weeping into her hands.

Quinn sighed.

Crap.

"I'll bet that's my two o'clock," she said.

"Oh," said Brittany, crimping her lips. "Do you want me to take it?"

"Uh, no, " Quinn said, puzzled. As a rule, Brittany didn't take clients because of her unpredictable schedule. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, she's upset, " she said, hesitantly. "You know, sometimes... that makes you...uncomfortable."

Quinn tightened her lips.

"I can be sensitive, too," she said annoyed.

"Santana says..." Brittany started.

"Don't 'Santana says' me, B.," she told her with more attitude than she intended. "Not right now."

Brittany looked crestfallen and Quinn exhaled wearily.

Way to be sensitive, Quinn.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," she said, squeezing her hand. "Just let me deal with this first, okay."

Brittany nodded, her eyes still wounded.

"Oh and B, it's a lucky duck day," Quinn told her with a small smile. "I caught Reginald."

"Ohh," Brittany said, excitedly, her eyes sparking back to life. She hugged Quinn happily, all apparently forgiven. "Yay. Can I go see him?"

"Sure," Quinn nodded.

She started into the back.

"Quinn," Brittany said, turning back as Quinn's hand fell on the door latch.

"Yeah, B?" she asked.

"Be nice, " she said, nodding toward the window. "She's really sad."

"I'll...be nice, " she assured her. "I promise. Extra nice even."

Quinn opened the door and stepped out into the blast furnace of heat. She bent down and saw that the girl was still sitting in her car. She now had her head laying in her arms on the steering wheel. She could tell by the way her body was shaking that she was still crying.

This ought to be nice and awkward, she thought to herself.

She approached the driver's side of the late model red sedan and gently tapped on the window. The young woman lifted her head and Quinn smiled at her. The brunette in the car somehow managed to look confused and hurt and achingly beautiful all at once.

She wiped her eyes quickly and rolled down her window.

"Hi," Quinn said.

"Hello," the girl replied, sniffling.

"My name is Quinn," she told her bending down slightly so she didn't have to squint up at her into the sun. "Are you Rachel?"

She nodded. There were tears clinging to her lashes and Quinn could see that she was struggling to hold herself together. Impulsively, Quinn reached into her pocked and pulled out some wrinkled tissues and offered them to her.

"They're clean, " she said weakly. "Just wrinkled."

Rachel took them and offered her a watery smile.

"Oh, thank you," she said, her voice quavering.

"Rachel, it's really hot and my receptionist was worried," she told her. "Why don't you come inside and we can talk where it's cool?"

Rachel frowned but nodded.

"Sure," she said, reluctantly "I'll just... "

She rolled up her window and opened her door, right into Quinn's shin.

Quinn grunted and moved back, wincing.

"I'm sorry," Rachel stammered, climbing out and closing the door. "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay," Quinn said, laughing slightly. "I spent the morning crawling around on my knees. I'm sure they're bruised already."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she said, wringing her hands.

"Really please don't worry...um, Rachel," Quinn said, biting her lip. "Rachel, did you just lock your keys in your car?"

Rachel gasped and grabbed at the door handle. It was locked.

Rachel put both of her hands on the window and peered in to see her keys still dangling from the ignition. At that point she just dropped her head onto the window with a dull thud and sobbed.

Yup.

Quinn tucked her lips in, closed her eyes and nodded her head. This was her client. The one she promised to be extra nice to.

Lucky duck day my ass.

"Rachel," Quinn said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Please don't worry. We can get your keys out."

"Really?" she asked, turning her tear-streaked face to Quinn. "I can't believe I just did that. I haven't been able to do anything right all day. First my audition was a nightmare and now this."

"Really," Quinn said. "My roommate can get into just about any car. I'll have him come get them for you. Come on, let's go inside before we both melt."

She nodded and followed Quinn to the door. Quinn held it open and Rachel stepped inside the office.

"Oh, that feels nice," she said, basking in the cool of the air conditioning. She actually smiled.

"Here," Quinn said, stepping around her. "My office is this way."

She led her down the hall and into her office.

"Please, have a seat, " she told her. "I'll have Noah go get your keys for you. Excuse me a moment. "

Quinn ducked through the door and hurried into the backroom. Noah was reassembling the carriers he'd been washing. He looked up when she rushed in.

"Who lit your ass on fire?" he asked, with a sideways smirk.

"I need you to go get this girl's keys out of her car," she said through gritted teeth. "She locked them inside and it's about a million degrees outside."

"What girl?" he asked, apparently just to aggravate her.

"What do you care?" she snapped. "She's a potential client. It's the red sedan in the front lot. It's probably the only car there. Brittany can show you in case you can't figure it out. "

"Is she hot?" he asked, waggling his eyebrows and making her want to smack him in the head.

"Literally, yes," she said. "In the perv way you mean, I don't know. She hasn't stopped crying for five minutes so I really couldn't say."

"You got a client?" he said, eyes wide. "And a crier, no less?"

He ducked his head and snorted with giggles. She narrowed her eyes at him and slapped him on the back of the head.

"Just shut up," she hissed at him. "Go get her goddamned car keys."

She could hear him laughing loudly as she walked away.

Yuck it up, Elephant Boy.

She stopped in the break room and grabbed two bottles of water out of the refrigerator and stalked back to her office. Rachel was sitting in front of her desk. She had the tissue box in her lap and a pulpy, wet mash of tissues already in her hand.

She gave a hiccuping sob when she saw Quinn.

"I'm so sorry," she wailed. "I just can't seem to stop crying."

Quinn gave her a wan, but reassuring smile and walked over taking a seat behind her desk.

"It's okay," she said, nodding her head. "It's hard. I know it is."

Quinn put a bottle of water on her desk in front of her.

"Here," she said. "I thought you might be thirsty."

"Oh, thank you," Rachel said, perking up slightly. "That's very kind of you."

Quinn nodded.

"And I sent Noah to retrieve your keys," she added. "He was practically a car thief in high school, he should be able to get them without a problem."

"Oh," Rachel laughed lightly.

"I'm kidding," Quinn said. "Sort of."

She smiled and shrugged. At least she'd stopped crying for the moment, but Quinn had the feeling that she was going to start again in a minute.

"Why don't you tell me about your cat," Quinn suggested gently.

Rachel licked her lips and swallowed hard. She was really trying not to cry anymore. She was getting a headache. She put her hands around the water bottle that Quinn had place in front on her. Quinn noticed that her hands were shaking.

"Um, he's four," she said, very softly. Her voice soft and fragile. "No, he's five now."

Quinn nodded, making notes.

"He's a boy, obviously," she said, frowning. Her hands were shaking so hard she was fumbling around with the cap on her water. "He's black with white. They're called... uh, I can't think of it..."

"Tuxedo," Quinn said. "They're called Tuxedo cats."

"Yes," Rachel said, smiling. "That's it. He looks like he has on a tuxedo and a little milk mustache."

Quinn leaned forward, reaching her hand out.

"Um, here," she said, pointing toward the water bottle. Her fumbling was making Quinn nervous. "Let me try that."

"Thank you," she said and handed it to her. Quinn quickly twisted off the cap and set it back on the desk.

"It's not all that cold now," she said. "I can get you some ice if you'd like?"

"No, no, it's fine," Rachel said, taking a sip.

Quinn nodded again.

"What's his name?" she asked.

"Mr. Arnstein," Rachel said almost bashfully.

"Do you call him Nicky?" Quinn asked.

"Sometimes," Rachel said smiling.

"Will he come if you call him that?" Quinn asked, chuckling.

"Not really," Rachel said. "He doesn't do anything unless he wants to."

"Oh, so in other words, he's a cat, " Quinn said with a smirk. "I'll make a note of that."

Rachel giggled.

"Do you have any pictures of him?" Quinn asked.

"Oh yes, tons," Rachel said smiling brightly. "He's very photogenic. He likes having his picture taken."

Quinn raised her eyes brows and nodded. Like pet, like owner, Quinn suspected.

"Some do, " she said, truthfully. "And some are ghosts. You only get shadows and flashes. And then, there's the dreaded vampire."

"What's a vampire?" Rachel asked, leaning forward.

"That's where you get nothing at all," Quinn explained. "That cat that can't be seen, only rumored."

Rachel laughed, loudly. Quinn couldn't help but laugh along with her.

Then she heard Noah laughing as well.

He dangled Rachel's keys on the tip of one finger and held them out to her. Quinn noticed that he'd changed out of his grubby white t-shirt into a slightly-less-grubby sleeveless, gray t-shirt. His pecs and guns were on full display. No doubt he'd stopped to do fifty push-ups on the way to her office.

"One set of car keys," Noah said, leaning in the doorway. "Fresh baked."

Watching, Quinn swore she threw up in her mouth a little.

"Oh my goodness," Rachel chirped happily, taking her keys. "Thank you so much. I was so worried. I can't even..."

Suddenly she jumped up and hugged him.

Of course, she just did that, Quinn told herself. She was a crier. All criers were usually huggers, too. No doubt she baked things and brought small gifts as well.

Noah leered at Quinn over Rachel's shoulder. Quinn loaded a thumbtack on a rubber band and aimed it at his thigh. The only thing that saved him was she was afraid she'd miss and hit Rachel in the ass instead. She wasn't exactly sure how she could explain that.

Rachel sat back down, clutching her keys happily. Noah swiveled in the doorway, back and forth, hanging on the frame and swaying like a gorilla.

"Don't you have something to do ?" Quinn asked him pointedly.

Noah shook his head and smiled at Rachel.

"I'm sure you're mistaken," Quinn said again menacingly, giving him another chance to save himself.

"Nope, Q., " he said, flashing a toothy smile. "I'm pretty sure my schedule's wide open."

Big, big mistake.

"Good," she said, "Then I'm sure you won't mind going out and working the Nelson case for a couple of hours."

The smile fell instantly off his face and landed on the floor. Quinn, however, found hers again.

The Nelson case was a dog, literally. Nelson was a rottweiler who had taken up residence in a local salvage lot. They had tried for months to get their hands on him and hadn't even come close. The dog's owners asked them to keep trying and to keep them updated periodically with photos so they'd know he was doing okay. They paid them now on an hourly rate with a flat monthly cap. Nelson duty was something they drew straws for and the loser had to sit in a car and stare at twisted metal for a couple of hours.

Puck just drew himself the short straw.

"You do know it's about a hundred degrees out right now," he whined.

"Yup," she said, nodding. "Sure is."

"You do know it'll be about ten degrees hotter in that salvage yard," he droned again.

"Yup," she said, trying not to smirk. "Sure do. Good thing you're already dressed for it, huh?"

He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Nice meeting you, Rachel, " he said in a dull monotone.

"Thank you again for my keys," she offered again happily. .

"Take plenty of water," Quinn told him. "Oh, and here." She pulled the bandana off her head and threw it at him.

He fumbled it a few times and it fell to the floor. He bent and picked it up and tucked it in his pocket.

"Thanks," he said scowling at her.

Quinn chuckled when she heard him ranting loudly to Brittany from the lobby.

"He sounds rather upset," Rachel said, looking worried.

"He's fine," she told her. "He's easily excited."

"Oh, I see. Is that your boyfriend?" Rachel asked her randomly.

Quinn choked on the water she was sipping.

"What? " Quinn scoffed, furrowing her brow. "Puck, goodness no. Why would you think that?"

"You bicker like a couple," she said, shrugging. "And the way he called you Q."

"That's true," she told her. "We probably do. We've know each other a long time. And eventually everybody calls me Q at one time or another."

Rachel smiled at her.

"Maybe I will, too," she said.

"Be my guest, " Quinn told her.

"Um, we were talking about your cat, " Quinn muttered nervously. "Pictures, you said you had pictures."

"Yes, I do. Will these work?" Rachel said. She pulled out her cell phone and scrolled through the screens and pulled up a photo of a large Tuxedo cat staring arrogantly at the camera.

"Boy, he's a big guy, " Quinn said. She tried to imagine Rachel, who was quite petite, fumbling around with a big, lumpy, sullen cat.

"He weighs about twenty pounds," Rachel said.

"Neutered?" she asked.

"Oh yes," Rachel said, nodding. "I'm very much about controlling the pet population."

Good on you, Miss Berry, Quinn thought. Wish more people followed your good example.

"So how did he come to be missing?" Quinn asked.

Rachel explained that she had friends over and she went to open the door for a food delivery and he bolted out and disappeared. It was something that he'd never done before. He was strictly an indoor cat and appeared quite happy to be so. She and her friends had looked for him for hours, but without success. She had hoped he might just come back, but he'd been gone for nearly two days now.

Quinn had a hard time imagining this cat doing much bolting. Waddling appeared to be more his forte. If he was moving quickly, he was either scared or after something.

"Is he micro-chipped?" Quinn asked.

Rachel shook her head. Quinn was surprised. She made a note to contact the local shelters ASAP. Sometimes they would check for her and sometimes they wouldn't. If they wouldn't, she'd go herself in the morning.

"Is he friendly with strangers?" Quinn asked.

Again, Rachel shook her head.

"Not really," she said.

"Is he shy? Does he hide when people come over?" she asked.

"Oh,no. He just sits and stares at them," she said. "He's not friendly with them but he's not afraid of them either. He's not afraid of much of anything actually."

One of those. Oh good, he's probably out marking territory everywhere and getting the crap kicked out of him by the neighborhood Tom cats.

"Is he affectionate at all?" Quinn asked.

"Oh yes," she said. "Sometimes, quite insistently so. And he sleeps with me. Actually on me usually."

"What does he eat?" Quinn asked.

By the looks of him, everything that crosses his path.

Rachel launched into this elaborate mixture of about nine different kinds of high-grade cat food and a feeding routine that would make a NASA engineer proud. She knew helicopter parents who's kids had less complex feeding rituals. No wonder the cat was a moose.

"Wow," Quinn said, trying to stay poker-faced. "That's...wow."

"Can you find him?" Rachel said, twisting her hands anxiously into the hem of her shirt.

"Rachel, I can't make you any promises except to say that we can try," Quinn said. "But I will say that cats usually stay close to home. Indoor cats that suddenly find themselves outside tend to panic and and hide. They eventually get hungry and come out looking for food."

This guy would be looking for it pretty damn quick. On a more serious note, fat cats who went off their food, even for a short time, were susceptible to developing liver ailments. She decided not to mention that to Rachel, who had finally stopped crying.

"I don't know if I can afford to pay your... fees, " she said. "I mean, I guess I should have asked that before you went to all this trouble."

"This is how we normally work," Quinn said. "We have things that we can do – sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. We can work on a daily rate basis or a package basis.

The best way to find a missing pet, any missing pet, is to make sure that everyone knows it's missing. We can do that or we can tell you how to do that. We put up posters, we contact vets, we contact pet stores. We have a network of people that we can contact – dog walkers, people who foster pets, radio stations, television stations. If we do it, we field all the responses and weed out the nutcases from the real tips. We also canvass the neighborhood and find likely spots where pets might hide.

If it's a cat that likes cats, we sometimes take a decoy to try and lure them out. Most of the time, though with a cat, trapping it works best."

Rachel frowned.

"It's not a bad thing, Rachel," Quinn said. "I promise. I'll show you. It's a perfectly safe trap that just keeps them contained until until we can pick them up. We find likely spots, bait them and then it's a waiting game."

"How much does something like that cost?" Rachel asked reluctantly.

Their normal daily rate was $125, but Quinn had something she called "The Crying Kid" rate and that was $75. Since it was her client, it was her call, and judging from the car she drove, the address she gave and the clothes she wore, Quinn was pretty sure that Rachel could afford that much for a few days. If she was wrong and she couldn't, well, then they'd figure something out.

"Can you afford $75 a day for three days?" she asked her.

Rachel nodded her head without even blinking.

"Okay, let's start with that and we'll go from there," Quinn told her. "Can you email me Mr. Arnstein's pictures? The one on your phone and a couple of others should be good."

Rachel had their email address from their business card, but Quinn wrote it down for her again anyway. She also wrote down her cell phone number, so Rachel could call her if he came back on his own. Quinn was pretty sure that wasn't going to happen, but just in case.

She gave Rachel the paperwork to fill out and excused herself while she worked on it. She walked out into the front office. Brittany smiled at her.

"You're being super nice," she told her almost proudly.

"I have my moments, " Quinn told her reluctantly. "Just don't tell anyone. Did Puck leave?"

Brittany nodded.

"He was really mad you Nelsoned him," she said. "His head was all red."

"Like I care," Quinn said. If he messed with her, she'd dye his Mohawk pink, again. "He was hanging in my doorway like a baboon. He's lucky I didn't hose him down, too."

"He says she's hot," Brittany said, nodding. "Really hot. Like, smoking, way hot."

"Okay, Brit," Quinn said. "I get the picture. Yes, she's very pretty. A very, very pretty girl."

"Hot," Brittany whispered. "And he said she smells really good. And her hair is..."

"Brittany," Quinn said gently. "Spare me the details, sweetie."

She nodded

"Soft," she said under breath. "Really soft."

"Well, I don't care how good they smell or how soft their hair is, if he hits on her, or any client, again in my presence," Quinn warned. "I'll appoint him Nelson's personal photographer."

"Personal photographer," Brittany repeated, laughing. Brittany's cell phone rang.

"Hey San," she purred answering it and smiling.

Quinn rolled her eyes and headed back to her office. Rachel was just finishing the paper work and she reached into her purse. She pulled out her checkbook. Quinn shook her head and waved her off, but Rachel insisted on giving her a check for the full amount. Quinn clipped it to her file and put it on her desk.

Rachel stood up and Quinn offered to walk her to the door.

"I emailed you that picture and a few others," she told her as they walked. "I also sent you a list of his shot records and his veterinary contact information, in case you needed it."

"Thank you," Quinn said, nodding her approval.

"Brittany, this is Rachel," Quinn said introducing them. "She's a new client."

"You look much happier," Brittany said, smiling. "Quinn will find your baby. She's very good with cats. Much better than she is with people."

"Hey, thanks, Brit," Quinn said, biting back any other sarcastic comments.

"It's true," she added helpfully. "Her bark is not as bad as her bite."

Jesus Christ.

Quinn scoffed quietly.

"I apologize for my staff," Quinn told her, smiling. " They're special."

"I think they're great," Rachel gushed. "All of them."

"Thanks," Quinn said. "I'll be sure and let their parole officers and therapists know. "

Rachel giggled.

She held out her hand. Quinn shook it.

"Thank you for all of your help," she said.

"I haven't helped very much yet," she told her honestly

"Actually, you have," she said, biting her lip. She turned to Brittany.

"It was nice meeting you," she told her and waved.

Quinn opened the door for her. She waved and walked out into the heat. Quinn strolled over to the window and looked out. She watched as she got into her car, put on her seat belt and carefully backed out.

"She likes you," Brittany said, nodding vigorously.

"Of course she likes me, Brittany, " Quinn said. "She's a hugging crier. They can tell when someone is afraid of them and they immediately gravitate toward that person. Kids and dogs do the same thing."

"No, she likes you, likes you, " she said.

Quinn scowled at her.

"She likes me because she thinks I can find her cat and because you made me be nice to her," Quinn insisted."Whatever happens now, I'm going to blame it on you."

"She flirted with you, " Brittany told her.

"There was no flirting, B," Quinn insisted. "She flirted with Puck. She hugged Puck. All the sniffing and flirting going on was between those two. Clearly she can do better."

"That doesn't mean she didn't flirt with you, too, " Brittany pointed out, helpfully.

"Jesus, there was no flirting," Quinn grunted and stalked back into her office. Her office phone rang and she glared at it. Against her better judgment she answered it.

"Fabray, " she said gruffly.

"What's this I hear about you snapping at my girl?" Santana Lopez barked at her, her tone somewhere between teasing and annoyance. Santana was Brittany's long-time girlfriend and Quinn's former college roommate.

"I know," Quinn said, feeling guilty "I apologized. I had a crier. And a hugger. A hugging crier."

Santana laughed. She knew full well Quinn's general aversion to most things emotional.

"It's a wonder you didn't explode." she marveled. "Brit said she was hella hot though. And smelled nice. A hugging crier that's hella hot, now that's not all bad, Q."

"The only hugging that was being done was on Noah," Quinn said. "Same goes with flirting and flying pheromones."

"Oh," Santana said, immediately losing interest. "Freaking perv. What did we ever see in him?"

"God, what' s with this 'we' crap?" Quinn sputtered. "I had a week or two of temporary insanity and in high school, no less. You, however, that's a different story."

"Well at least I wasn't fool enough to move in with him," she snapped back. "Your dumb ass has been living with him longer than some folks manage to stay married. And y'all ain't even FWB."

"Yeah, well, he fixes my car, cuts the grass and pays his share of the bills on time and frequently cooks," Quinn told her. "Plus, he's scared of me."

"We're all scared of you," Santana confessed. "We're just hanging around to see you finally snap."

Quinn laughed.

"Is that why you Nelsoned him? Cause he was hugging on the hot chick in your office? Or because he was hugging on the hot chick?"

The subtle difference in her question wasn't lost on Quinn. She did, however, choose to ignore it.

"Brit told you I did that?" Quinn asked, surprised.

"Fuck yeah," she said, chortling merrily. "She knew it would make my whole damn day. I'm tempted to drive out there just to wave at him. Maybe I'll be licking on a Hawaiian shaved ice when I do it."

"It's my treat if you do," Quinn told her. "And be sure and take a picture. I want to make it my new wallpaper."

"Oh hells yeah," Santana promised. "Me and Brit are going for Thai later, wanna join us?"

"Uh no, " Quinn said, pulling a face. She hated Thai food and Santana knew it, too. This was just so she could tell Brit she asked and Quinn turned her down. Typical Santana. "But thanks anyway."

She could hear Santana snickering and rolled her eyes. Then she could hear the melodic jingle of the shaved ice truck.

"Gotta run," Santana told her. "Later, Q."

Quinn put the phone on her desk and sat back in her chair, swiveling with her toe. She stared at the file with Rachel's check paper clipped to it. She needed to find this cat and make this case go away so she could go back to her familiar routine. Cats weren't the only ones who got pissy when things disrupted their normal routine.

She picked up her office phone, pulled out her well-worn contact list and started making phone calls.

At 4:30 a new email popped up on her screen and she clicked on it. It was from Santana. It was a series of pictures, The first showed Puck hunkered down in his old beater of a truck, looking hot and bored, with a digital camera propped up on the dash in front of him. The second showed his confused face, presumably when Santana rolled by and called his name. The next two showed a scowling Puck – one yelling and one making an obscene gesture. From the blurry nature of the image, Quinn surmised that Santana may have been laughing when she snapped the photograph. The last one showed Puck out of his truck with a large bubble gum pink stain on his shirt and he appeared to be shaking something wet and messy off of his jeans.

Santana's email consisted of one line:

~Q,

You owe me for one cotton candy Hawaiian shaved ice. ~S

It was definitely worth the expense.

By five o'clock she had contacted nearly every rescue organization, animal shelter, pet shop and veterinarian within five miles of Rachel's neighborhood.

True to her word, Rachel had emailed her the cat photos she requested. In fact, an entire 40 page album of cat photos, depicting Mr. Arnstein in all his haughty glory. There were both shots with and without his owner. Several shots featured Mr. Arnstein in an array of pet hats and costumes – the one thing they all had in common was the sullen expression on the cat's face. It pretty much straight out said, "I'm a cat, bitch, not a Barbie Doll"

She picked two and had Brittany work up a missing pet flier and leave it on her desk. She would look at it in the morning and then, if it was functional, she'd send Noah around with it in the morning.

**=^..^= **


	3. Chapter 3: Waiting for A Clue

**A/N** Not as long as I'd hoped, but I wanted to at least post a little bit on this each week. It'll keep it going even if I get distracted by shiny things. Like, love, loathe - I guess I'll find out. Thank you for reading and taking a moment to give me your thoughts and suggestions.

Little Bo Peep Detective Agency  
>Chapter Three: Waiting for a Clue<p>

Finn Hudson's mouth dropped open and he got a seriously confused look on his face.

Finn was Rachel's on again-off again boyfriend. They were currently on again and had been for nearly six months. He was tall, some thought freakishly so, and husky, leaning toward the pudgy. He was boyishly handsome, if you liked that type, and had an easy going, affable charm. He was, however, somewhat simple and, on occasion, even slow-witted. As a result, he could be appallingly insensitive and even selfish, particularly where Rachel was concerned, a trait he was presently demonstrating.

"You did what?" he asked loudly as Rachel put a plate of food down in front of him.

"I hired an agency," Rachel said again, more hesitantly this time, sensing his lack of enthusiasm. "A pet location agency to help find Mr. Arnstein."

Finn shook his head and squinted, a sure sign that he was trying to wrap his mind around the idea that he either couldn't fathom, didn't like or both.

"Did you know about this?" he asked the well-dressed, poised young man sitting across from him.

Kurt Hummel fish-mouthed and shook his head, fluttering his hands in the air. Kurt was one of Rachel's closest friends. He could be funny, supportive and charming and was as worldly as Finn was sheltered, but he also had a sharp, even caustic, tongue and was prone to fits of jealous pique.

"Completely news to me I assure you," he said, picking up his fork and poking at his entree suspiciously. He loved Rachel, enjoyed her company immensely but her cooking skills were dubious at best. He learned to approach things with more than a hint of caution as well as plenty of napkins and a large drink.

"Seriously, Rachel," Finn said, his trade-mark lopsided grin spreading across his face. "This is a joke, right? You're pranking us. April Fool's, ha ha, right?"

Rachel sat down and spread her napkin carefully across her lap. She placed both hands beside her plate as her tongue flickered across her lips several times, a tell-tale sign that she was trying to keep herself calm.

"No, Finn," she said, with more than a hint of annoyance now. "This is no prank nor is it an April Fool's joke either since it's, quite obviously, June. I hired someone to help look for Mr. Arnstein. I don't see why you both seem to find that so difficult to understand."

"Rachel," Kurt said smoothly, putting his fork down, and laying his hand across hers. "It's just that, well, it seems rather extreme, don't you think? I mean, I know you loved Mr. Arnstein and I'm very sorry he's run off, but to hire a detective?"

"Not a detective," she huffed, quickly losing her patience. "A pet detective. They just look for lost pets, they don't stalk cheating spouses and other assorted fugitives as well. Likewise, I didn't see any crystal balls and tarot cards in their office today. And quite frankly, no. I don't find it extreme in the least."

"I hope you didn't pay them in advance," Finn remarked, talking with his mouth open and spraying food.

Rachel wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Actually I did," she snapped. "They didn't want me to, but I insisted."

"Well," Kurt said smugly. "You can probably kiss that money good-bye. No doubt they'll show up at the end of their allotted employment and announce they couldn't locate the nefarious cat and you'll be out God only knows how much money. It's a scam, honey, it's always a scam."

"Really Rachel, _honey_," Finn said, now putting his huge hand over hers, "I wish you'd discuss these things with me rather than being so imperative."

"Impulsive, Finn, the word you're trying to use is 'impulsive,' "she corrected and none too gently, yanking her hand away. "And no, you'll have to pardon me if I don't feel compelled to clear things with you in advance, particularly when it's my own money I'm spending."

"I know he was your pet and that you love him, but be reasonable. It's still a cat, Rach," Finn said as though talking to a small child. "I'll get you another cat, two even. Now maybe you can still call them and get your money back. Just explain to them that you were impertinent."

"Oh goodness," Kurt muttered under his breath. This was pretty thick, even by Finn's often lofty dim standards. At this rate, this was going to be an early evening.

"Spare me your condescension, Finn," Rachel hissed lowly. "If I want to spend $300 or $3000 on 'just a cat' then I am going to do so, whether you approve or not."

"My what?" he asked dumbly.

"Look it up," she snapped back at him, then she rounded on Kurt.

"Frankly, I expected you to a be a little bit more sympathetic," she told him. "Now if you'll excuse me, suddenly I've lost my appetite. I believe you _both_can show yourselves out when you're finished."

She threw her napkin on her plate and stomped off down the hall. Though they were expecting it, they both jumped when they heard the door to her bedroom slam.

"Wha..." Finn sputtered, somehow finding the means and the nerve to look indignant. "Women, huh?"

Kurt shrugged.

"Quite out of my element, I'm afraid," he said tersely, daubing his napkin to the corner of his mouth.

"Hey, what's 'condensation' mean?" Finn asked confused. "I hate it when she uses words like that."

"It means, Finn," Kurt told him with a tight smile. "That you'll be sleeping all alone tonight. Not that you aren't used to that already, mind you."

Kurt just shook his head and sipped his iced tea. Yes, a very early evening.

**=^..^= **

Quinn was laying on the couch reading when Puck stormed into the house. He slammed the door and made the windows rattle, then stomped loudly up the stairs. Twenty minutes later he came galloping back down again, making just as much noise, if not more.

Quinn had yet to even look up from her book.

He stalked into the kitchen and slammed things around on the counter for another fifteen minutes or so and then reappeared in the living room.

"What the fuck, Q," he fumed, standing in the middle of the room, glaring at her her. "I mean, for real, what was that all about?"

Quinn sighed, pulled off her reading glasses and looked up at him. She noticed he'd changed his clothes and had to stifled the urge to laugh.

"Oh, you're home," she said lightly. "I hadn't noticed."

He huffed and put his hands on his hips. What a freaking nelly drama queen.

"I can't believe you Nelsoned me, " he ranted, "Over a chick."

"I didn't Nelson you over a chick," she said reasonably. " I Nelsoned you because you were behaving like a Neanderthal. Don't hit on clients in the office, it's unprofessional."

"That's bullshit, Quinn, and you know it," he said.

"Why do I know it?" she asked, folding her book on her chest. "The only thing I know is that you were swinging on the door frame like a chimpanzee and leering at her breasts."

"Yeah, they were nice, weren't they?" he asked.

She scoffed.

"Sorry, can't say that I noticed," she told him.

"Liar," he remarked. "Then again, you're really more into asses than boobs. She had that working, too."

She started looking around for something to throw at him. Everything within reach was either too soft or too expensive.

"Did you notice?" he asked.

"What?" she asked, sure she would regret it.

"Her ass, man? " he said. "No way you did not notice that fine ass?"

"The only ass I've noticed today is you," she muttered.

"She was so into me," he insisted, his head bouncing emphatically like a creepy bobble-head doll.

Now she laughed.

"First of all, she's so not your type." Quinn told him. "Second of all, saying "thank you' and smiling doesn't make a girl 'into you.' Third, don't hit on women in the office, especially not in my office. "

"And that hug she gave me," he smirked. "I mean, come...on! What was that like totally full-on body contact hug all about?"

"I'll bet you $50 that she hugs everyone she meets eventually and exactly that same way," she told him. "She's... I don't know, friendly."

"Yeah, dude, really friendly, like 'I want to lick you all over' friendly. Me gusta," he continued. "She's totally into the Puckmeister."

"I understand they have therapy and medication that can really help with those kind of delusions now," Quinn scoffed, rolling her eyes.

"Did you sent Satan out there to mess with me?" he asked, remembering he was supposed to pissed at her again.

She grinned.

"Nope," she told him honestly. "I didn't even suggest the shaved ice, but I did offer to pay for it. So how much are those now?"

"Yeah, well real funny," he said. "Ha, ha, ha... lame."

"But you look so pretty in pink," she teased. "It brings out your eyes."

"I'm very comfortable with my sexuality," he protested. "Pink doesn't scare me."

"Be careful who you say that to, " she said, chuckling.

He stretched loudly and thumped his hands on his stomach while rocking back and forth on his heels a few times. Quinn recognized this routine. This was Puck in deep thought, all two inches of it.

"I'm going on a beer run," he announced, apparently finished with his temper tantrum and speaking to her again. "Maybe I'll get food truck, too. You want tacos or Korean?"

"I got it already," she told him. "Beer, that is. There's two six packs in the meat cooler in the garage."

"That's my girl. This is why I can never move out." he said happily as he bounded through the kitchen into the garage. He came back in with an icy beer in each hand. He offered her one, but she shook her head.

"You do realize that if you'd just give it up every once in awhile, we'd have the perfect relationship," he told her in all sincerity.

"Now I'll have nightmares." Quinn announced, looking horrified and shuddering. "Thanks a lot."

He shrugged and flicked ice water at her. When she didn't react he got bored and quit.

"What do you mean she not my type?" he asked, falling heavily into the recliner nearest to the television.

"What part of that do I need to explain?" she asked, laying her book across her chest. "The part where's she not a slutty airhead? Or the part where she's not a tattooed bad-ass biker chick? Or maybe the part where her sentences have actual words besides: wow, yeah, you know, like, and dude. Not to mention the girl has relationship written all over her. You can see it for miles. You don't do relationships. You barely do conversations."

"Hmm," he said, taking a long pull on his beer. "That's true. She did seem kind of whiny and high maintenance."

"You think?" Quinn asked, rolling her eyes. "Trust me. She comes with an operating manual fifty chapters long and an extended warranty option that ends with 'I now pronounce you...' "

"You sure act like you know a lot about this chick you weren't into," he remarked.

"It's not about knowing," she told him. "I don't have to know her to see all that. She wants epic, she wants the fairy tale. You want a girl who can open a beer bottle with her teeth. "

"I guess she's not your type then either, " he noted, hooking his knees over the arm of the chair and reaching for the remote. "You don't do drama queens or high maintenance or fairy tale romance bullshit either."

"First of all, I don't have a type. Second of all, you don't know what I do and don't do. And third, shut the hell up," Quinn said, highly annoyed that everyone was so all up in _her_ personal life today.

Their meddling wasn't a new thing though. Everyone was always trying to fix her up with someone. Brittany and Santana generally tried to push her toward anyone with nice curves and a pretty smile, while Puck mixed it up, depending on his shifting circle of odd acquaintances. Sometimes it was guys, sometimes it was girls. The only constant was the fact that she generally responded to all suggestions with a resounding, "Fuck no."

Puck was currently was operating under the twisted notion that they were, in fact, competing for the same dating pool, hence the whole flirting with Rachel performance.

"Do you think you can find her cat?" he asked, snickering as his mind tumbled directly into the gutter.

"Yes, you immature idiot," she said, rolling her eyes. "I think I can find her cat."

"Not likely," he muttered, "Either of them. Even with both hands and a map."

Quinn cut her eyes at him and when he continued to giggle, she threw a pillow at his head. It bounced off and fell on the floor.

"We should make a wager," he said, grunting as he bent down to retrieve the pillow. "Over who can get to it first. Her cat, I mean."

There was more muffled snorting and giggling.

"Puck, I know exactly what you mean. I'm not betting you about anything," she said, trying to get back into her book. "Especially since I know where you're going with all this."

"Cause you'll lose, " he said shrugging. "Cause you got no game. Plus she was hot for my stuff. She would so just shoved your uptight, skinny ass out of the way to get to me."

"I'm about ready to find your ass with my foot if you don't drop this," she warned.

He scoffed. He knew how far he could push before she really got angry and he was no where near close.

Quinn felt something soft brush against her bare foot. A few moments later it brushed again, followed by a cold, wet nudge. She smiled and wiggled her big toe and was rewarded with a soft pat and a lick. She raised up and saw cool gray-green eyes peering at her and she patted her hand lightly on her chest.

"Come on," she whispered.

The stocky gray and white Manx cat lumbered up onto the couch, waddled up the length of her leg and flopped himself onto her chest. He immediately rolled over on his back – his stubby little legs up in the air. If she hadn't caught him he would have tumbled right off onto the floor. Of course it just simply never occurred to him that she wouldn't catch him. She dug her fingers into his fluffy soft belly fur and he immediately started purring, his front feet swimming in the air.

"God, I can hear that over here, " Noah said, shaking his head. "It's a wonder it doesn't make the floor shake. He's such a little bruiser."

"He's a happy man," she said, tucking her fingers under the fat cat's fluffy chin and scratching. "Aren't you, Mojo?" He curled his front paws tightly around her hand and closed his eyes. When she tried to pull her hand away, he slowly pushed out his claws and held it there. "Say I'm a bulldog in cat's pajamas. That's what I am."

She chuckled.

"Where are the other two?" Puck asked, looking around.

"I don't know where Loki is," she answered, wondering when she last saw the wicked little Siamese mix.

"Probably puking up something in my shoes," he grumbled.

"Better yours than mine," she retorted.

"And the old man?" he asked.

"Zip is out in the backyard," she told him.

Zipper was her elderly Australian Shepherd. At fifteen, Quinn had shared more than half of her life with him. Like most old dogs, he had a whole host of ailments, but lately he'd been reluctant to get around and Quinn knew it was just a matter of time. For the moment, he was still eating everything he could find and content to lay in the sun and chew on his tennis ball and so she was happy just to let him.

"Is he any better?" he asked her, his voice concerned, mostly for Quinn. Everyone could see the old dog was quickly failing, but Quinn was still in denial.

"Same," she said with a sigh. "He likes to lay on the deck so I just left him out there."

"That explains the psycho being AWOL, " Puck said. "He's off sulking because the Pie-man is outside and he can't be all barnacled on to him. I'll bet he's sitting in a window somewhere, little red demon eyes all lit up, watching for him."

"Probably," Quinn said.

"So about this Mr. Aardvark," Puck continued, turning on the television and flipping channels at the speed of light.

"Arnstein, Mr. Arnstein," she corrected. "It's from the movie, _Funny__Girl_."

"_Funny__Girl_, dirty girl, whatever," he said, waving her off. "You wanna bet I can find him before you do?"

"No, I don't," she said, frowning deeply. She thought this conversation was already over. "I already told you that and besides, there's no point in both of us looking for that cat. I'm going to talk to her neighbors tomorrow and you're going to take Reginald home."

She rolled Mojo over and set him gently on the floor. He turned and glared at her indignantly. Petting was over when he said it was over and this was hardly sufficient. He immediately set out to express his displeasure by finding something of Puck's to piddle on.

"I'm going to bring Zip in and go to bed," she told him.

"God, you're a freaking nun," he told her, glancing at his watch.

"You weren't up at the crack of dawn like Elmer Fudd on rabbit stalking duty," she told him, yawning. "And that's Sister Mary Francis Go Fuck Yourself to you, Mister."

She walked through the living room and into the kitchen and out the back door to the deck. The minute her feet hit the wood, she heard the soft whine and the scrabble of nails against the boards.

"Hey, old man," she said lightly, her voice lilting. "What are you doing out here? Who left an old dog out here. Who would do that? Who?"

The scrabbling came faster. In better days, he would have been wiggling all around, happily trying to get petted. Now he waited for people to come to him and eagerly pawed at the ground in front of him. He didn't try to rise unless he absolutely had to and even then he sometimes needed help.

He whimpered and whined and yelped as she got closer and knelt down to him. He scooped up his tattered tennis ball and she tugged on it. His fly ball days were long past, but he still loved his tennis ball. Now she would sit and roll it to him and he'd mouth on it happily and nose it back to her.

"You ready to go to bed, Pie?"she asked him, watching his stubby little tail wiggle. Everyone else called him Zip, but she mostly called him Pie because of his coat. The classic piebald blue merle, Zip had one brown eye and one blue eye – a ghost eye – and it shimmered in the half light. She stood up and put her hands under his belly and help him get to his feet then steadied him until he got his balance.

Quinn glanced up in the dark and saw red eyes shining from the upstairs bathroom window. It was cracked open and he'd wedged himself beneath the sash and the screen. Any other cat would probably be stuck, but she knew this wasn't any other cat.

"Loki," she said with a grin and the little cat answered her in the strange sing-song broken warble he had."Come to bed, fierce dragon."

Pie shuffled along stiffly and waited at the door, looking back as if to say, "Hurry up." She opened the screen and he gingerly made his way into the kitchen and down the hall into her bedroom. He climbed into his bed in the corner. Even now, he still made his three-circles and a half back turn before he laid down.

She pushed her door closed and quickly stripped down to her underwear. She pulled reached around and unfastened her bra and slipped it off, hanging it on the back of her door. She flipped up the screen on her laptop, waiting til it powered up and then turned off her overhead light, bathing the room with the glow from the flickering animation on the screen. She sat the computer in the middle of the bed and then slid beneath the cool sheets and snuggled into her pillow. She snuggled for a few minutes, until she started to feel warm, then she tugged her sleep shirt from beneath her pillow and slipped it over head. She propped her pillows up and leaned back against them and put her laptop across her thighs and opened her email. She scrolled through quickly – answering a few, filing a few and deleting a lot.

There was a brief commotion outside her door and a fawn blur streaked into her room through the cat door, leaving it swinging in its wake. Loki had materialized. She leaned up and saw the little masked bundle of chaos walking around inside Zip's bed, trying to find the best spot to snuggle against the old dog.

Truth was, Loki was Zip's cat. He didn't really have much real use for any of the human occupants in the household and Mojo was passively indifferent to him. It was Zip that had found the feral kitten and hauled him inside through the doggie door. He had hid him in her room for two days before they finally figured out what his weird warbling little cry was and found the poor starving little thing, balled under the bed and surrounded by dog treats. Zip had been trying to feed him. He was unmistakably a Siamese, with bold blue eyes and the tell-tale mask, but the Tortie color points betrayed his mixed parentage.

His wide sapphire eyes regarded her coolly as he marched vigorously in place before curling into his usual sleeping position and tucking his head down against Zip's gnarly paw.

Now that everyone was accounted for, Quinn closed her laptop, stowed it in her nightstand and turned off the lamp. She snuggled back down into covers and played the same game she played every night where she let the contents of her mind filtered through, sometimes one at a time and sometimes in a mad frenetic rush, until her thoughts were still and she finally could close her eyes.

The one that popped into her head the instant before she finally drifted off to sleep: So maybe I need to check out Rachel Berry's ass.

**=^..^= **

Happy Holidays to everyone - whatever your celebration of choice may be. Wishing you peace, love and light. Til next time. ❤


	4. Chapter 4: The Meter is Running

A/N: A little stocking stuff for your holiday of choice. Hopefully it will make for merry and bright. I can never thank everyone enough for reading and commenting, so again, thank you. It is very much appreciated. It makes me positively giddy - even more than spiked eggnog.

Chapter Four: The Meter is Running

DAY ONE:

To Do:  
>*Get lay of the land.<br>*Get the word out.

Quinn was out of the house before first light.

Three days wasn't a very long time. She wasn't even going to count any time spent yesterday either. They had already lost two days while Rachel cried over her missing pet and Quinn didn't want to waste another moment. She didn't wanted to have to look this girl in the eye and tell her that they couldn't find her cat.

Quinn's plan was to just walk the area – to see if there were any tell-tale signs of feral cat activity or obvious cat traps, places where cats would be lured in and then get caught. Many a missing cat had been inadvertently trapped in a neighbors storage shed or basement or garage. She also wanted to see if there was construction or street work or building maintenance going on in the area. Inside cats could become frightened by loud new sights, smells or sounds and feel the need to escape to new surroundings and hide. And, even though he was a neutered male, Quinn was especially curious to see if any of Rachel's neighbors might have a female cat in heat. Other male cats spraying or hanging around a residence would be good evidence of that.

Rachel's townhouse was in the back of the complex and the whole development was set off the main cross street. One of the biggest threats to an inside cat suddenly outside was being hit by a car. It could still happen, but it was less likely on quieter side streets and parking lots. Similarly, it pretty much ruled out construction noises as a factor.

There wasn't a lot green space in front of Rachel's townhouse, but there was behind it. She backed up to a wooded park-like area. While it might be picturesque to look at out the window, it made for the possibility of predators. Cats were particularly susceptible to becoming prey for coyotes, stray dogs and even the odd bobcat or raptor. The fact that Mr. Arnstein was a big cat worked in their favor. There were other smaller, easier prey available when confronting with a hissing, swatting 20 pound cat versus an average seven pound cat.

Walking the street behind Rachel's, Quinn happened upon what was always a good ally. There was a woman outside in her driveway feeding several cats. There was almost some kind-hearted soul who couldn't resist feed a stray animal and before they knew it, they were feeding lots of stray animals. Cats in particular would gravitate to these residences, especially if they left out food.

Quinn walked up the driveway.

"Excuse me," she said pleasantly. "Good morning. I can't help but notice that you have an entourage."

The woman smiled.

Quinn offered her business card and explained what she was doing. She had a copy of their flyer folded in her pocket and pulled it out. The woman took it and asked if she could keep it.

She told Quinn that she would be more than happy to keep an eye out for the runaway and would also ask her immediate neighbors to watch as well. She also agreed that they could put a trap on her property if they wanted to if it came to that. Quinn thanked her for her time and started back to her car.

Going through Rachel's parking lot she caught another good break when she happened across one of the maintenance crew and she immediately introduced herself. He said his name was Esteban.

Between her broken Spanish and his broken English, she told him what she was doing and he said he would keep an eye out for the cat and took her business card. He also alerted her to a fenced-in dumpster several buildings down where he always saw cats lingering for scraps. That would be another ideal location for a trap. He said they did have a window washing crew working in the complex in the past week, but it was on the opposite side from Rachel and she doubted that would have been enough to frighten the big cat.

She thanked him and continued back to her car. It was too early to try and talk to Rachel's neighbors and she needed Rachel to talk to her complex to see what the policy was regarding her putting up missing pet flyers. If they put them up just to have them taken right back down, that was just wasted time spent.

**=^..^= **

Rachel had finished her morning work-out and was reaching up to close her blinds in her guest bedroom when she noticed someone walking down the street behind her townhouse. She recognized it as Quinn, the woman from the pet agency.

She watched as she walked up the driveway and approached the lady who fed all the neighborhood cats. She saw her hand over what she presumed to be her business card and a few minutes later, she pulled something out of her back pocked, unfolded it and handed it to the woman. They talked for several more minutes and then Quinn waved and started walking back down the driveway and crossed the street.

She crossed the hall into her bedroom and peered out the window just as Quinn approached one the maintenance workers she saw regularly in the complex. He was nice. He often carried her packages inside for her and fixed her hot water heater when it leaked all over the garage so she didn't have to buy a new one.

For some reason, Rachel felt the urge to run outside and talk to the girl. Maybe it was because Quinn was the only person who'd even remotely appeared to understand her profound sense of grief. It was ridiculous, of course. She wasn't even dressed yet and besides she hardly knew this person. She clearly hadn't found her cat yet and Rachel had no new information to offer her so there wasn't even any reason to speak to her.

Then again, she could just say hello and maybe offer her a cup of coffee. That was just being polite, wasn't it? That wouldn't seem, well, strange, would it? No, it would be friendly. That was okay.

Having reached an internal detente over the idea, Rachel grabbed her shoes and her keys and started toward the front door. She hopped around, slipping on her shoes, and then briskly walked out into her driveway. She saw Quinn crossing to her car and her heart sank. Then, instead of going inside, which was the rational thing to do, she started to sprint across the parking lot.

"Quinn," she yelled, once she got close enough.

Quinn paused upon hearing her name and turned to see Rachel hurrying toward her. She was dressed in what appeared to be lounge pants and a short pink heart-stenciled t-shirt and wearing pink Crocs. If Quinn had to guess, she would swear the little brunette was still in her pajamas.

"Quinn, hi," Rachel said brightly, breathing heavily. "Good morning."

"Good morning," Quinn said, offering her a smile. "I wasn't expecting to see you, uh, this early. Or, even at all."

"Oh," Rachel said, her smile fading.

"No, it's just..." Quinn shook her head at her own bluntness. "I mean, it's so early."

"Oh yes, I see," Rachel said, perking up again."I'm a morning person as a rule."

Of course you are.

"I was wondering if maybe you might like some coffee?" Rachel offered, trying to find just the right polite tone. "I just made a fresh pot and I happened to see you."

Happened to see me? What, with a telescope?

"Um, sure," Quinn said, mentally fumbling for an excuse and coming up empty-handed. "Sure, okay."

"Oh, yay," Rachel squeaked and actually did a giddy-hop-skip step. She started back across the street toward her house, chattering amicably about something. Quinn followed along behind, twisting a hand through her hair and wondering if she'd lost her mind this morning.

All of her needy client semaphore signal flags were at full-mast and waving furiously. Her vision, however, was obscured because at the moment she was too busy staring at Rachel's ass in her lime green lounge pants. She was having a Puck-worthy mental debate as to whether or not the girl was wearing underwear when Rachel stopped abruptly. Quinn plowed right into her.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, " Quinn stammered, inwardly cursing Puck because this was all his perv-ass fault. "I don't, I didn't... I just..."

She finally quit trying to even finish her pitiful excuse and just threw her hands up in resignation.

"No," Rachel laughed, "It's fine, I'm fine. I should be more careful. I was just saying that I've spoken to all my neighbors so they are aware of the situation, pet-wise."

"Oh," Quinn said, finally comprehending what Rachel was saying. "Great. That's great."

"I just wanted to save you from duplicating any efforts, " she said reasonably "I mean, given our time constraints."

"Yes, sure. Understood," Quinn remarked, nodding. She wondered what else relevant to actually finding Mr Arnstein Rachel might have said while she was butt-gazing her like a total perv. She made a mental note to do something evil to Puck for no reason when she saw him.

Rachel unlocked the door and held it open for Quinn. She stepped inside and waiting in the living room as Rachel came inside and closed the door. The interior was spacious, tidy and inviting. To her real surprise it was neither pink nor particularly girly. It felt authentic, lived in and not like something put together in a designer's workbook for the sake of appearances. She must be seeing a very real side of Rachel and it felt comfortable.

"We can have coffee in the kitchen, if you like," she said, motioning to the table. "Or, if you prefer, we can go up on the patio – it's really quite nice at this time of the morning."

"Sure," Quinn told her. "The patio sounds great."

"Excellent," she said, beaming. "How do you take your coffee?"

"Fully dressed, plus-sized," she said.

Rachel tilted her head slightly and squinted at her, puzzled.

"Cream and sugar, lots of both," Quinn explained.

"Oh, I see," Rachel nodded, making a mental note. "Is rice milk okay?"

"Umm, sure, I think so," Quinn said shrugging.

Rachel fixed their coffee and handed Quinn hers. She picked up her own mug and a small box of breakfast cake and nodded her head for Quinn to follow her up the stairs and out onto the patio.

"Oh wow," Quinn said, walking out and taking a seat at the patio table. "This is really nice. Your home is lovely, Rachel."

"Thank you," Rachel said, smiling sweetly at the compliment.

They sat quietly, sipping their coffee.

Quinn found herself staring at Rachel. She would stop only to find herself doing it again a few moments later.

"Why are you doing this?" Rachel asked, blowing on her hot coffee.

Quinn choked slightly.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, rolling her eyes at herself. "I mean, how did you come to be doing this kind of work for a living?"

"I know, " Quinn said. "It's a little... different."

"Different is good," Rachel said with an easy smile. "You'll have to pardon me for saying, but you don't really strike me as the customer-service type."

Quinn laughed.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said immediately. "I didn't mean to offend you."

"Trust me," Quinn insisted. "You haven't. And you're right, I'm not exactly. I just kind of fell into all this."

"And the plot thickens, " Rachel teased, quirking her brow slightly.

"Not really. I mean, I pretty much started in college," Quinn told her. "I had a... friend who lost her dog and was practically inconsolable. Everyone was sort-of running around like headless chickens looking for it and it just kind of occurred to me that there might be a better way to approach it."

"And was there?" Rachel asked, intently "I mean, did you find the dog?"

"Yes and yes," Quinn said. "Turns out someone had basically walked off with it, but we got it back."

Yes, but only after she and Santana threatened to beat the crap out of the person who took it if they didn't return it.

"It just kind of turned into a part-time thing from there, " she continued. "Once I graduated, after floundering around a little, I thought I'd try it for awhile until something better came along. I'm still waiting."

Rachel nodded, leaning on her hand, totally focused on Quinn.

"It looks like you've done really well," she said. "I mean, you have a nice location and a staff. I was very impressed."

Quinn chuckled and nodded.

"We do okay," she said with a shrug.

In Hollywood, appearance could be deceiving and nothing was ever as it seemed.

The real story behind Little Bo Peep was that when Quinn and Santana were first out of college they were both bored, working dead-end temp jobs and eating boxed macaroni and cheese, ramen noodles and frequently supplementing with the free sample servings at various local grocery stores. On a giggling, beer-fueled whim they sat down one weekend and wrote a screenplay.

Owning mostly to beginner's luck, naivete and Santana's brash fearlessness, they found an agent and he successfully shopped it to a producer of moderate note who optioned for 18 months while he, in turn, made the rounds and pitched it to various studios.

With a nice mid-five figure check now in their possession, the two of them upgraded their meager lifestyle. Quinn used the money to put a down payment on a small house in a trendy zip code and she started her business out of their garage while still working temping jobs.

Santana lived with her until she and Brittany moved into a place of their own together, Then, after days of listening to him crying poor and pitiful, she'd let Puck talk his way into Santana's old room.

When the producer extended his option for another 18 months, they split another nice check. Quinn took the opportunity to sell her starter house for an obscene profit and, with Puck now in tow to split expenses and manual labor, she bought a bigger renovation project in a much better neighborhood with an even trendier zip code. The two of them spent the next 12 months covered in saw dust and inhaling paint fumes while they converted it to their liking.

She also moved her business out of their garage and into the modest storefront that Rachel saw. It was a piece of rental property owned by Santana's boss. He loathed dealing with constant tenant turn-over and Santana recognized an opportunity. She locked Quinn into a very favorable long-term, low-rent lease. She even manage to get a sublet clause so they could sublet it and, very likely, turn a profit, if they ever needed out from under the rent.

"Actually, we all do other things now and then," Quinn explained. "Well, I mostly do this, but everyone else has another working life besides this."

That was also something of an understatement.

The notion that one person, let alone four, could eke out a living looking for lost pets was, at best, a stretch, even in Los Angeles. The truth was they all worked other jobs as needed and like so many in Hollywood, they were linked in and around the entertainment industry.

Quinn was the only one who worked the pet finder job mostly full time, while Brittany was the only one of their core four who was trying to make a go as a performer full-time. Santana's income supported them and she worked for Quinn when she could.

Puck did crew work and got a job now and then as an extra or a walk-on. He was currently working his way through culinary school and saving to buy his own food truck, a plan Quinn whole-heartedly endorsed and planned to help fund when he was ready if she could. When he had time and ambition, he got work catering now and then and, thanks mainly to Santana, he was making inroads into starting a small craft services company.

Santana was the only one who had what they all considered a real job. She was a publicist.

Shortly after their film option deal came about, Santana went to work for their agent, first as an administrative assistant, where she learned the business, and then eventually as a publicist with his agency. She was quietly biding her time, building her contacts and just waiting for the right time and opportunity to come along so she step out on her own.

Until then, it was still a win-win for all of them because she had real industry contacts and got real industry perks with her job. They went to premieres and promotional events frequently. It was fun and also a phenomenal way to network. She also pitched work their way whenever she could.

Rachel smiled.

"What did you study in school?" Rachel implored. "I mean, if you don't mind my asking."

"No, I don't mind," Quinn said, putting her coffee down. "I was pre-law, then business, then just whatever would get me out in four years. I ended up with a marketing degree. I worked in an advertising agency for about 15 minutes before I realized I hate it."

Rachel noticed her eyeballing the coffee cake and casually nudged the box in her direction.

"Please," she told her. "As much as you like."

Quinn smiled and took another piece.

"This is really good," Quinn said, stuffing a forkful in her mouth.

"It's sinful, I know, " Rachel agreed. "I try to stay away from it, but I just can't. It's my biggest vice at the moment."

"You're doing pretty well if crumb cake is your worst sin," Quinn insisted. "I've stopped counting mine."

"Somehow I don't believe that," Rachel said, frowning.

"That I have vices or that I've stopped counting them," Quinn asked, licking the sticky frosting from her fingers.

Rachel watched, eyes wide, head tilted, mouth slightly open, utterly transfixed. She stayed that way until she realized that Quinn had asked her a question, then she blushed furiously.

"Gosh, I'm sorry," she said, her blinking. "I was... actually I don't know what I was doing."

She laughed nervously and Quinn looked at her curiously.

"It seems there's a lot of that going around," she said, tweaking her brow up.

Rachel's cheeks tinted an even darker shade of pink and Quinn smirked.

That was all..interesting.

"I just can't imagine that you would have that many vices, I guess," Rachel continued, trying to regain her train of thought. If there was a point she wanted to make it had vanished completely. She had no idea what she meant to say before the frosting incident.

"Trust me," Quinn said solemnly. "I have plenty of vices."

"I'll have to take you at your word on that," Rachel said, still shaking her head.

"Well, it looks like we have at least one in common," Quinn said honestly. "Because I can now add this crumb cake to the list."

**=^..^= **

Quinn could tell Puck was cooking before she ever went inside the house. So could half the dogs in the neighborhood as the fragrant grill smoke wafted down the block. She could also hear Puck and Santana bickering back and forth loudly in the backyard as she walked into the garage.

"It's too hot," Santana insisted.

"I'm telling you, it's not," Puck said emphatically. "Look, I'm the expert here."

"You're an expert at being fucking wrong," Santana replied. "And when you burn up $50 worth of prime steak, I'm going to roast your ass on it. Then you'll be able to see for yourself."

"Santana, just go in the house," he barked. "I've got this covered, thank you."

"I know you for damn sure ain't my mama," she barked. "So you don't get to tell me what to do."

So much for a quiet evening.

Quinn rolled her eyes and shouldered the garage door open.

"Hey Q," Brittany greeted her warmly when she stepped into the kitchen. She was sitting at the kitchen table with Mojo in a blissed-out petting-induced coma on her lap.

"Hey pretty blonde girl in my kitchen," Quinn teased. "Stop spoiling my fat cat."

"He's my favorite," Brittany said. "Loki is mean."

"He's just misunderstood," Quinn told her. "Like me."

"You're not mean," Brittany insisted.

"Yes, I am," Quinn said, grinning.

She dropped her purse and backpack in the empty chair next to Brittany and then leaned down to kiss her on the cheek.

"I'm glad you're home, " Brittany said with a pout.

"Why?" she asked, already knowing the answer. "So I can put them both in time out?"

"Maybe," she confessed. "They don't fight so much when you're around."

"That's because they know I'll hurt them if they do," she whispered in her ear. "I'm mean, remember?"

"That's not true," she said, casting her blue eyes up at Quinn. "And you won't."

Quinn put a finger to her lips and winked.

"Our secret, B," she said, tugging the refrigerator open and pulling out a bottle of water.

"It's about damned time you graced us with your lazy presence," Santana fussed, stalking into the room. She snagged the water out of Quinn's hand and twisted the cap off. "Why is it so fucking hot in here?"

She drank greedily.

"Maybe because every door and window is wide open and the oven is set on solar flare?" Quinn suggested, diving back into refrigerator again. "Brittany, hon, do you need anything? Or were you just planning on taking my next one?"

"I'm good," she said, holding up her drink.

"You're out of beer," Santana told her while fanning herself and rolling the cool water bottle across her forehead. "Brittany, you're going to rub all the fur off that spoiled Chia pet."

"No," Quinn corrected. "You and Puck are out of beer."

Santana narrowed her eyes at her.

"Fine, if you want to be all technical and shit," she said. "Puck said he thought you might bring some."

"And you sound like you're actually surprised that he's wrong. What am I, the beer fairy?" Quinn asked. "Maybe Puck still believes in the tooth fairy, too?"

Right on cue, Puck rolled into the kitchen. He was dressed in flip flops, cargo shorts and an apron emblazoned with the phrase: "It's All in the Way I Handle My Meat." He had a ridiculous chef's hat squashed on his head.

"God, the neighbors," Quinn muttered, rolling her eyes.

"Q, did you bring beer?" he asked sounding somewhat frantic.

"No I did not," she told him.

He groaned and flailed around dramatically like he'd been bee-stung.

"Give Brittany some money so she can make a beer run," he demanded, staring at Santana.

"Oh, I know you're not talking to me" she told him, taking a menacing step toward him. "And I know you did not just order B to go fetch your damned beer."

"Yes he did," Brittany said, nodding. "I heard him."

"I so am and I so did," he said, mocking her tone. "She's not busy and you want it as much as I do. You know Q won't go and get it."

They both looked at over Quinn with pleading puppy dog expressions on their face.

She scoffed and slammed her water on the counter.

"Goddamn it," she grunted loudly then grabbed up her keys. "Only because I know you two won't shut up about it until someone goes."

She glanced at Brittany who smiled at her. On her way to the door she spied Puck's wallet on top of the television and grabbed it.

"Hey," he protested, scowling.

She pulled out a twenty dollar bill and tossed it back down.

"If I hear another word, I'm not going," Quinn said, staring at him.

He started to open his mouth, but Santana grabbed his nipple and twisted. He yelped like a girl.

"What? You means guys don't like that?" she asked, smirking. "Drive safe, Q."

She held up two bills and Quinn smiled and closed her hand around them.

"If you need anything else, tell me now," Quinn insisted. "This is my one and only grocery run."

"Can we have fondue?" Brittany asked hopefully.

"We're having steak," Puck scoffed, shaking his head. Santana reached for his nipple again but he scuttled out of her reach, wincing.

"I'll make you fondue tomorrow," he told her. "The kind with cake, like you like."

"I guess we'll be back for dinner then," Santana smirked.

"Crazy bitches," he muttered under his breath. Rubbing his chest, he stomped back out to the grill.

Santana laughed wickedly, then she leaned over and kissed Brittany. Mojo hissed and swatted at her grumpily. Santana hissed back at him and he flopped down and stalked away after Puck, hoping for scraps.

"You shouldn't be so mean to him," Brittany told her, eyes closed as Santana kissed softly on her neck.

"Who, Puck or that walking basketball of a cat?" Santana asked.

"Puck," Brittany said.

"He shouldn't make it so easy," Santana purred, nuzzling against her.

She took Brittany by the hand and tugged her out of her seat.

"Come with me," she requested. "Let's go in the other room and not watch some television until Q comes home."

Brittany giggled and trailed after her.

**=^..^= **

Quinn walked up the aisle, resting her elbows on her cart and scanning the shelves. She wasn't looking for anything in particular, she was mostly just killing time before she had to go back and play referee for the rest of the evening. Hopefully the fermented contents of her cart would ease the tension considerably. She wanted to find something fun for Brittany and tossed in a bag of gummy worms.

"What are these?" a male voice asked behind her.

"Artichoke hearts," a female voice replied.

"Why do you need these" the man asked again. "Do I like them?"

There was a loud scoff.

"I don't know, but I like them," the woman replied impatiently. "That's why I need them."

"We should get something I like, too," the man whined.

"Seriously?" the female retorted. "I hardly think nasty chemical-laced wax-covered cupcakes and spray-foam squeeze cheese are on my shopping list.

Boy, that sounds like love, Quinn thought, smirking.

"That's like two things," her male companion fretted. "You have a whole cartload."

"We'll find something else that you like, don't we always?" the female insisted.

The couple steered themselves around Quinn, who glanced up briefly and then resumed her searching.

"Quinn?" a suddenly-familiar voice called. She jerked her head up and saw Rachel standing in front of her, beside a nearly over-flowing shopping cart which had a large, nondescript young man attached to the handle.

"Hello again," Rachel said, smiling.

"Hey, Rachel. Yeah, again, wow, " Quinn said, straightening up. "So are you stalking me now or what?"

Rachel's eyes widened and then her brows furrowed anxiously.

"Uh, no, I.. we...," she stuttered.

Quinn bit her lip and then smiled.

"Rachel, I'm kidding," she admitted.

Rachel broke into a nervous laugh.

"You'll have to forgive me," Quinn explained. "I'm not used to being around people who actually listen to me much less take anything I say literally."

Rachel giggled and pulled at her hair.

Quinn looked at the stockpile in Rachel's shopping cart..

"Are you feeding bears?" she quipped.

Rachel followed her gaze and laughed loudly,

"Um, sort-of," she mumbled, sounding somewhat embarrassed. Quinn saw that she glanced up at the young man standing next to her who was staring back and forth between them.

"Um, this is Quinn," she said formally. "She's my... this is the woman who's helping me find Mr. Arnstein."

The man's face scrunched up and he looked...well, the word constipated sprang into Quinn's mind.

"Quinn, this is Finn," Rachel said. "He's my... um."

"Boyfriend," he said helpfully. He was surprised Rachel forgot the word. She usually never forgot words.

"Oh," Quinn said sounding slightly surprised.

Rachel shifted back and forth, fidgeting.

"Hi," Quinn said, holding out her hand. "I'm sorry, what was your name again?"

"Finn," he said, shaking her hand lightly. God, she hated that.

"Flint?" she asked.

"Finn," he repeated.

"Finch?" she repeated.

"Fi...nn," he drawled, dragging it out.

"Fi..lch," she repeated at the same cadence.

"Finn, you know, like a fish." he yelled slowly.

"God, she's not deaf, Finn," Rachel said under breath, mortified.

"Fish, right, got it." Quinn said, nodding, chuckling to herself.

She saw Rachel's eyes shift to the contents of her own cart and now it was her turn to blush and groan. She had five cartons of Mexican beer, a dozen cans of cat food and a super-sized bag of gummy worms. Rachel put her hand up to her mouth to cover her grin.

"It's really not as pathetic as it seems," Quinn insisted, shrugging. "My home has been invaded by latent adolescents. It was either shop for them or listen to them whine and fight all evening. I'm hoping they'll drink themselves into stupors early."

"Nice friends," Finn muttered.

Rachel slapped him, hard from the sound of it.

"Ex-cons and mental patients need love, too," Quinn said non-nonchalantly.

Finn look aghast and Rachel stifled a giggle.

"You'll understand why I don't want to linger too long," she continued. "Most of the good stuff is bolted to the walls, but it still doesn't pay to trust them for too long."

"Always nice to see you," Rachel said earnestly. "I hope I'll see you soon."

"Likewise," Quinn said nodding. "Enjoy the rest of your evening."

There was a moment of awkward smiling and then the parties started their separate ways. Rachel and Finn had gotten about half way down the aisle when Quinn turned toward them.

"Oh, nice to meet you, Fink," she said loudly

She heard Finn scoff in frustration and she could see Rachel's shoulders shaking slightly. Finn started to turn toward her, probably to correct her, but she saw Rachel take his arm and pull him along.

God, talk about piss-poor casting, Quinn thought to herself. She didn't want to even wonder how someone like him manage to pull someone like Rachel. He was clearly fighting out of his weight class. Maybe Puck would have been a better choice after all.

**=^..^= **

There weren't any emergency vehicles parked in front of the house when she returned and she immediately breathed a sigh of relief. She carried the beer into the garage and deposited it into the spare refrigerator and then carried her other groceries into the house. Puck was puttering in the kitchen and Brittany and Santana were nowhere to be seen.

She placed her bags on the counter.

"Where's the beer?" Puck asked, rifling through bags.

"In the garage," she said absently. "Why am I not seeing Santana and that blonde girl she hangs around with?"

"They're asleep on the couch," he told her. "I was hoping to see some hot girl-on-girl but they passed out before it got good."

She chuckled.

"I'm telling Santana you said that," Quinn told him.

"Like she hasn't heard that before," he chided.

"Saw your hot wanna-be girlfriend at the grocery store, " Quinn told him.

"Oh yeah," he said, pulling potatoes out of the oven. "Which one?"

She rolled her eyes.

"The one with the nice ass," she added helpfully.

"Again too many options, gotta be more specific," he said, pausing to think.

"Rachel, you shithead," she said annoyed.

"Oh, you mean, your hot wanna-be girlfriend," he said, nodding.

She scoffed.

"I don't know why I even bother to speak to you," she complained.

"Cause you're an idiot," Santana said, walking into the kitchen, yawning loudly.

"Must be," Quinn agreed.

Santana looked around and then looked pointedly at Quinn and threw up a hand as if to say, "Where the fuck?"

Quinn pointed toward the garage and Santana disappeared out the garage door.

"So what's with this Rachel chick?" Puck asked, pulling out plates and handing them to Quinn. She started setting the table.

"Well apparently, she's somebody's girlfriend," she told him. "She was with some guy. She introduced him as her boyfriend."

"Let me guess," Puck said, pointing with the tongs he was holding. "A yuppie suit with a $500 haircut."

Quinn shook her head.

"Nah, not even close," she said, grabbing up silverware. "Some lumpy Sasquatch-size sort. Actor maybe, I dunno."

"I hate when dolts like that get hot girls," Puck fretted angrily. "Makes me want to mercy fuck them just so they know what they're missing."

"Oh right," Quinn said, glaring at him in disgust. "Puck, patron saint of maidens dating beneath themselves."

"Did I honestly just hear him say what I though he said?" Santana asked, carrying two six packs of beer in from the garage.

"Yes, you did," Quinn told her.

"Oh you funny, delusional little impotent man," Santana said laughing. "If anyone is getting a pity lay, it's you. Hey, gummy worms!"

Santana made to grab for the package, but Quinn snatched them away from her.

"Those are for B," she told her and Santana pouted.

"Oh stop," Quinn said, frowning. "You know she'll share. Besides, we're about ready to eat. He may be a dick..."

"A limp dick," Santana corrected.

"Stop lying about the state of my dick," Puck barked. "It's a mighty oak."

"More like a willow" Santana insisted.

"Regardless, he makes a mean dinner." Quinn noted.

She dug her fingers playfully into Puck's ribs, then patted his bare back.

"Thanks for cooking," she told him, smiling.

"See, this is why he stays, " Santana grumbled, sipping on her beer and boosting herself up to sit on the counter. "You're too nice to him. Makes him think he still has a shot."

"Quinn doesn't like Puck like that anymore," Brittany said, walking into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes. "Besides, she likes Rachel now anyway."

"Brit, hon, just stop with the Rachel talk," Quinn scolded.

Brittany frowned and sat down at the table looking chastised, but then Quinn held up the gummy worms and her eyes lit up.

"After dinner, okay?" Quinn insisted. Brittany nodded and Quinn handed them to her.

"Who's Rachel?" Santana asked, her curiosity peaked, and Quinn groaned.

"She's a just some client," she insisted.

"She's just some banging hot chick," Puck corrected, setting a platter of steaks on the table. "Q has a thing for her, but apparently she's got a boyfriend."

"So?" Santana said with a shrug. "That's no big deal."

"First of all, I don't have a thing for her, " Quinn insisted. "And second, if I did, which again I don't, I don't do the boyfriend drama."

"You said he was a tool," Puck reminded her.

"I did not say he was a tool, " Quinn protested. "I said he was kind of dough-boy and Yeti-like. I have no idea if he's a tool or not. And besides, even if he is, I don't care. Not my problem."

"Brit, baby," Santana asked, hopping down. "What do you want to drink?"

"Water's fine, " she told her. Santana walk to the fridge and pulled it open. She grabbed two bottles of water and handed one to Brittany and the other to Quinn.

"So what's the deal with this girl," she asked her quietly "And why is this the first I'm hearing of it?"

"There is no deal," Quinn insisted. "And it's not the first you're hearing of it. She's the one that was crying in my office yesterday. Brittany is... it's just wishful thinking on their part. There is not thing, seriously."

Santana sat down next to Brittany.

"Oh yeah, that one," she said with a grin and immediately looked at Puck. "She's an actress, right?"

"Yes, I think so," Quinn answered.

"What's her name again?" Santana asked.

"Rachel Berry," Brittany told her to Quinn's obvious displeasure. "But she doesn't smell like berries. She smells like lavender."

Santana smiled at Brittany and patted her on the leg, then she pulled out her cell phone. Quinn eyed her suspiciously. Puck swore under his breath in the kitchen and Quinn walked up behind him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"What else do you need help with?" she offered sincerely.

He looked around and shook his head.

"I think we're good to go," he told her. "Wait, you can take this."

He handed her a basket of bread. She carried it to the table and then pulled out a chair beside Santana, who was still caught up in something on her phone. Quinn took Santana's second beer and moved it over to Puck's plate. Before Santana could confront her about it, Puck walked to the table and sat down.

"Ladies, your magnifeast awaits," he announced dramatically. "You may hold all your applause until the end."

Quinn and Santana both rolled their eyes and Brittany clapped excitedly.

"Eat up, peeps," he said, spearing a steak with his fork.

"Wait," Brittany said. "Say grace first."

"Fine," Santana muttered, putting her phone aside.

Everyone bowed their heads.

"Good God. So let's fucking eat already. Amen."

**=^..^= **

DAY TWO

To Do:

* Set traps

Quinn pulled into the parking lot and shut off the ignition. Puck's crappy pick up truck shuddered and sputtered and finally shut off, but only after backfiring loudly and belching a plume of oily, black smoke in protest.

That's lovely at the crack of dawn.

She put her hand on the door and pulled the handle, but the door didn't budge. Scowling, she pushed her shoulder hard against it once, twice and finally it creaked open, screeching painfully. Nothing about this truck was easy or subtle.

"Piece of shit," she muttered, slamming the door. It bounced open again, as though in spite, and she growled and pushed it closed. It was one good slam away from duct tape. At least it wouldn't be noticeable against the gun-metal gray primer.

She walked around to the back and dropped the tailgate so she could start baiting her traps. She had brought eight in all. It was a lot – overkill actually. No doubt she was going to be catching and releasing a lot of strays. Because Mr. Arnstein was such a big cat she had to step up to a size large than she normally used – these would hold a raccoon and even a bobcat.

She made a mental note to call her favorite contact at the closest no-kill to see if they work some kind of a deal with her. At the very least, she'd like to snip anything she caught before she turned it back out. The males were quick and easy, but the females were a different matter.

The traps were nothing elaborate or complex – just a mesh wire box frame with a drop-spring door mechanism that triggered by pressure and closed behind any animal when it entered the trap lured by bait. They were, however, humane and highly effective, particularly for cats, which tended to be more visibly active at night. The animal might not be too happy, but it wasn't harmed and the traps were highly portable and releasing any wayward animal was just a matter of raising the back door of the trap, which pulled completely free.

She really meant to get these set out the night before, but the time got away from her. Now she had this small window this morning to bait and set them and then she'd have to check them later to make sure they were still baited and empty. She would keep them in shade as best she could so that any animal she caught wasn't sitting in the open for hours.

She planned on putting three around Rachel's complex and three off-site in the wooded area behind. That was probably going to get anything but a cat there, but it was worth a try. She had contacted the property manager at Rachel's complex and had his permission to put them out and she also attached her business cards to the traps, in case some concerned citizen had any questions as to her motives.

For bait, she was going to first try chicken wings. She used all kinds of things, but she found sardines and chicken worked best. Rachel said Mr. Arnstein wasn't big on fish flavors, so she was going to go with chicken first. She had a small container of chicken wings she'd grilled and she tied them so they dangled freely as far back in the trap as she could. She wanted the cat to walk all the way in and step on the pressure plate that released the drop door. Once the bait was set, she slide the back door into place again and securely latched it and double-checked because rounding up cats twice was because they'd escaped once was nearly impossible.

She had already lined the bottom of all her traps, so now she covered this one with an old beach towel. Most cats like enclosed spaces and a trapped cat would hopefully relax eventually rather than thrash frantically and possibly harm itself.

Now that it was baited and covered, she was ready to set it out. Her first location was the dumpster that the maintenance man had showed her yesterday. She shimmied along side and got behind it and pushed the trap underneath the back corner. Once she had it positioned where she liked, She raised the door and set the pin, activating the pressure plate in the rear of the trap. Once set, as soon as a cat stepped on it, the plate would drop and the door would snap shut behind them, trapping them neatly inside. Quinn also tucked a small tin of fresh water in the farthest corner of the trap. It was too hot and the water would probably evaporate quickly, but it was better than not having it at all.

That was one trap baited, set and ready for occupancy. Now she had seven more to go.

She put one in farthest corner of Rachel's front porch. It wouldn't surprise her if Mr. Arnstein wasn't coming back and trying to get in the house again. He certainly wouldn't be the first fat, spoiled inside-only cat who soon tired of the rigors of life in the wild and tried to find his way back to high-end wet food and air conditioning if he could.

She carried the third trap down the side yard and tucked it in a far corner of Rachel's back property line, under a shrub. She was on her hands and knees putting water in the trap when she heard a voice call out above her, "Now I understand your comment about crawling around on your knees."

She chuckled and looked up, squinting against the glare, and saw Rachel smiling down at her from her deck.

"How long have you been watching me?" she asked, wondering just what exactly she'd been staring at given her current position.

"Oh, not too long," she remarked slyly. She'd actually been watching since Quinn pulled into the parking lot. "So do you really think that's going to work?"

"I'm cautiously optimistic," she told her, not wanting to get her hopes too wildly inflated. She was starting to appreciate how easily that was to do where Rachel was concerned because the girl took everything to heart. "We'll know soon enough."

"I just made fresh coffee," Rachel said hopefully.

Quinn hemmed, quirking her mouth. She really had a full schedule.

"I stopped and got coffee cake on the way home last night," she added, sweetening the carrot as it were.

"I'll come around," Quinn said, shaking her head at her complete lack of willpower over all things pastry.

Rachel squealed and clapped and Quinn laughed. If only everyone was that excited at the thought of sharing her company.

She crawled back beneath the hedgerow and double-checked the trap and then scrambled to her feet, brushing herself off as best she could before starting around to the front porch. Rachel left the door open for her and she walked in, closing the door behind her.

"I'm just fixing your coffee," she called from the kitchen. "Fully dressed."

"Right," Quinn said, nodding.

"You can go on up if you'd like," she told her. "I've got this covered."

"Okay," she said. "But I've got to watch the time."

"It's okay me as well," Rachel replied. "I have an audition. We'll just have a quick bite."

"Can I take something with me? " she asked.

"No, no, " Rachel said. "I've got it."

Quinn climbed the stairs and walked out onto the patio, marveling once again at the view.

"I promise I won't keep you," Rachel said, nudging through the doorway with a serving tray. Quinn moved quickly to take it from her as she was starting to list to one side.

"Oh, thank you," Rachel said gratefully. She started pulling items off the tray and putting them on the table. "Thank you. Please, sit."

Quinn pulled out Rachel's chair for her and then pulled out her own and sat down.

"It's blackberry today, " she told her, serving the coffee cake. "I promise, you'll love it. It's from Frangelico's – they're just right up around the corner. Their food is so... addictive. Everything is just yum, it takes me forever to decide sometimes. I stand at the pastry case and just stare – eventually I just want one of everything."

"Thank you," Quinn said, taking the plate from her. She picked up her fork and started to dig in, then realized she probably was being rude and waited for Rachel to sit down.

"No," Rachel said, fussing with napkins and a plate of fresh fruit. "Please, go ahead. You've been working already. Just eat, I'll catch up to you. Don't worry about that."

Quinn smiled and went back to cutting up her coffee cake. Taking a first bite, she closed her eyes and chewed, savoring.

"Sinful, right?" Rachel asked.

"Positively," Quinn said, taking a second bite, literally trying not to moan out loud.

"It's okay," Rachel said, noticing her face. "To make noises, I mean. It's almost better than sex."

Quinn choked and reached for her coffee.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, "I'm too blunt for my own good sometimes."

Quinn laughed, waving her off.

"No," she told her. "It's fine. I just wasn't expecting it, that's all. I certainly understand about the addictive nature of food porn so no need to apologize."

"How did your dinner go last night?" Rachel asked lightly.

"It was fine," Quinn said, shrugging. "No blood was spilled, no glass was broken. Good all around."

Rachel laughed.

"It sounds like fun, " she said truthfully.

"Nah, just boring," Quinn said, pulling a face.

"Somehow I don't believe you," Rachel insisted with a laugh.

"So maybe you'll come sometime, "Quinn said casually, without really thinking about what she was saying or, more to the point, who she was saying it to. "You can see for yourself how madly dull we all are."

"Sure, I'd like that, " Rachel said instantly to Quinn's horror. "It would be fun. And I can bring dessert."

She motioned toward the coffee cake with a happy expression on her face.

"Great, yeah," Quinn nodded, a tight smile twisted on her face.

Holy crap - she so did NOT just fucking actually invite her to come over to dinner sometime? She was just kidding... wasn't she?

"Yeah, you can bring your boyfriend, Fizz, too, " Quinn added and Rachel's expression faltered noticeably.

"Oh sure," she said without enthusiasm. "I guess. He might be busy, though."

"What does he do?" Quinn asked, wondering.

"He's an actor," she said. "Well, he wants to be. Right now he mostly works for his dad."

"Oh," Quinn said, nodding like she was interested.

"He's a producer," Rachel explained. "Finn works his crew – mostly as a PA."

Now she was slightly more interested.

"Anyone I would know?" Quinn asked lightly.

"Lane Hudson," Rachel said, nodding. "He's quite successful."

Rachel wasn't exaggerating. Lane Hudson was a major television producer with dozens of hit series under his belt and the accolades, awards and influence to go along with them. Rumors were he was looking to start making films. Quinn was dumbstruck that dolt she met last night was Lane Hudson's kid. Thankfully she only thought it instead of letting it tumble out of her mouth.

"I know the name," Quinn said truthfully.

Now she was curious. That probably explained why Rachel was with him, but it certainly didn't explain why she was still auditioning for parts. Surely the boyfriend had influence enough to at least get her auditions with his father, didn't he?

"I know what you're wondering," Rachel said quietly.

"You do?" Quinn asked, furrowing her brow.

Rachel smiled

"You're wondering why I don't get work on his father's shows?" she said.

Quinn bit her lip self-consciously.

"Um, yeah," she confessed. "The thought occurred to me."

"The same reason he doesn't, "Rachel said, blinking. "His father doesn't believe in giving favoritism to actors. He won't consider anyone until they're established on their own – not even his own son and especially not his son's girlfriend. I'm afraid he doesn't really care for me too much."

"Gosh, why not?" Quinn said quickly, frowning.

"I'm pretty sure it's because he thinks I'm just using Finn," she said. "Which is, of course, ridiculous. We've been on-and-off for awhile and I've never once asked him for anything from his father or his family. I don't want to make it that way."

"I'm sorry," Quinn said."I'm sorry that he's like that and I'm sorry that he's too stupid to see how wrong that is."

"Thank you," Rachel said. "It's alright. I just look at it as incentive, you know. It just makes me want it even more."

"I can understand that," Quinn said, nodding. "Good for you. You don't need those kind of strings. You'll make it without all that."

"I hope so," Rachel said wistfully.

"You will," Quinn said emphatically.

Puck was right. The guy was a tool. Apparently a legacy.

Quinn glanced at her watch. Their quick bite had turned into a lost two hours.

"Oh my God, Rachel, is that the time?" she said anxiously. "I'm so sorry to just eat and run, but I have to go."

Rachel looked at her watch and blanched as well. How did that happen?

Quinn drained her coffee and shoveled her coffee cake into her mouth. She started gathering up her dishes.

"No, no, leave them," Rachel insisted. "I'll take care of it."

"No, Rachel," Quinn said, shaking her head. "The least I can do is help clean up."

They collected their dishes and Quinn carried them downstairs on the serving tray and put everything in the sink while Rachel put away the leftovers.

"I can do these dishes for you right quick if you like, "Quinn offered.

"No, Quinn," Rachel said, tugging on her wrist. "Come on, I'll get them later."

"Thank you for the coffee," Quinn said, letting Rachel pull her through the living room. "And the conversation. I don't know how it got to be so late?"

"Me, neither," Rachel admitted. "And you're welcome."

"It was nice," Quinn told her.

"So maybe I'll see you then tomorrow," Rachel said hopefully, leaning up against her door.

"Maybe," Quinn said, offering a smile. "Oh, break a leg or whatever it is you're supposed to break, but not really."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

"Bye," Quinn said with a nod, then she trotted off down the driveway. At one point she turned, looked back and saw Rachel still watching her. She waved and Rachel waved back.

Once she saw that Quinn was safely back to her truck, Rachel turned and went back inside. She shifted into full-panic mode because she was now seriously running late and would have to scramble to make her audition on time.

Where had the time gone, she wondered as she dashed up the stairs.

**=^..^= **

Again, thank you for reading. Now please, commence with your comfort and joy.


	5. Chapter 5: We Can Bill You

Chapter 5:

We Can Bill You

"Where in the hell have you been?" Santana fumed. "I've called five times."

"Working," Quinn said quickly. "I know, sorry. My phone was off."

"I've got some good dirt on your girlfriend," Santana said excitedly

"Not my girlfriend," Quinn said, shaking her head.

Santana scoffed. This was typical Quinn – deny, deny, deny. She could be in her bed and between her legs and Quinn would probably still insist otherwise.

"Whatever you say, good dirt is still good dirt," Santana continued. "You know who that lumpy boyfriend of hers is?"

"Yup, sure do," she said, taking huge delight in knowing she was stealing Santana's thunder.

"Bullshit, how?" Santana hissed, sorely disappointed.

"She told me," Quinn said

"Again, bullshit, when?" Santana said dramatically. "For reals, sometime between last night and this morning she told you?"

"This morning, " Quinn said but didn't offer any details.

Santana huffed loudly.

"You're just saying that," she accused.

"No, I'm not," Quinn insisted. "I sort-of had breakfast with her. She told me then."

Santana was glad Quinn couldn't see the wicked smile on her face.

"So did you also sort-of sleep with her, too?" Santana asked, her tone suggestive. "Sort of get a little morning wiggle in the sheets to brighten your day?"

"No!" Quinn barked. "It's not like that, god. I was working and she invited me up for coffee."

"Uh huh," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "Sure, because that happens all the time...in porn movies. Shit. Great, now I have this mental image it'll take me hours to get rid of."

"Shut up," Quinn said impatiently. "There's nothing going on there. This Rachel thing is all in Puck's head."

"Must be catching because Brit is convinced, too," Santana reminded her. "That's two against you and well, you have been known to lie, Q."

"If I was was getting anything from her besides coffee and really awesome danish I would tell you," she insisted. "I'm not. Nothing is happening. She's got a boyfriend that she's been with for some time. End of story."

"Danish, huh?" Santana said, groaning. "See, that's the mental image I've got in my head. You getting really good Danish. Oh god, make it stop."

Santana groaned and Quinn could hear her banging her head on her desk.

"Did you really want something?" Quinn asked bluntly. "Or did call just to harass the shit out of me?"

"Mainly to harass the shit out of you," Santana admitted. "But let's get back to your Danish-loving girlfriend's fabulously-connected boyfriend."

"I see where you're going with this," Quinn said, shaking her head. "And I'm so not going there."

"Quinn, come on," Santana scoffed loudly. "This is Lane-freaking-Hudson. That's totes huge, Q. HUGE! This is too good to pass up. We've got to find a way to get in there. If you won't sleep with her, well, maybe you could hook up with him. Goodness knows you're hot enough to pull that off."

It was Quinn's turn to scoff indignantly.

"Not funny and not happening," Quinn told her seriously, clearly unamused. "Besides, Rachel already told me old man Hudson isn't too big on their relationship and apparently he doesn't look favorably on people coat-tailing on Junior. Hell Santana, he won't even cast the kid in his own productions. This doesn't sound like a guy who takes to schmoozing too well."

"He hasn't been schmoozed by me yet," Santana pointed out. "Let's face it, I give great schmooze."

"So I've heard," Quinn said and they both chuckled.

"Maybe it's more about Junior being seriously lousy than it is about Daddy having issues with nepotism," Santana observed. "Like I said, I've asked around. The girl is the real talent in that pairing. In fact, I'd settle with just hooking up with her, professionally speaking. Sooo, maybe you should bring her around some."

"Santana, I'm telling you..." Quinn blustered angrily. "I can't do that!"

"Wait, wait, don't get your little prissy hackles up," Santana said, backing down. "I'm not saying anything more than be friendly. She obviously enjoys your company, for whatever odd, freakish reason. Just look at it like networking."

"I still don't like it," Quinn said plainly. "I'm not taking advantage like that."

"It's not taking advantage unless you're faking it and I know you," Santana pressed cautiously. "You're not faking it. However you need to label it, you do like this girl. I'm not saying anything other than just be her friend. She gets something, you get something and, more importantly, I get something."

"Wha..." Quinn said, frowning.

"I told you, I've done my due diligence here," Santana said. "Forget about the boyfriend. Let's focus on the girl. She has real prospects. She's also got lame-ass people representing her. Or, should I say badly representing her. Maybe I could change all that. This could be a break, a really big break. Not just for me, Quinn. I know I can make things happen for her."

Quinn sighed. Even if everything Santana was saying was true, she still didn't like any of this. If Rachel had been that broken-hearted over a pet, she could only imagine how inconsolable she might be if she felt someone in her life actually betrayed her. Still, maybe she'd talk to Rachel about it.

"I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no," Quinn offered, hoping to end the discussion. "I'm just saying we'll see."

"Okay, that's cool." Santana said. "I'll take that. But at least promise me you'll find her stupid cat. Maybe that will get me in the door and she'll give me a shot at least."

"I can't promise that and you know it," she said, laughing.

"Of course you can't," Santana said. "That's because you spend all your time yapping to me on the phone and eating her sweet coffee cake. You'll never find Fluffy at that rate."

"I'm hanging up now," Quinn told her, really trying not to get angry. She didn't want to fight with Santana.

"Think of it," Santana added. "What if this is the breakout moment for all of us? If one of us wins, we all win. It's always been that way. We can just make Rachel a part of that, too. Just think of it, Q. What if you're the one who can make all of her hard work and sacrifice pay off? What if you're the one who can make her dreams reality? Can you really say no to that possibility? What if fate has laid a hand here, Q? Who are you to mess with all that?"

"See, this is what you do," Quinn told her, shaking her head. "You make even the most ridiculous, unrealistic things sound reasonable, like they're totally no big deal. Then the next thing I know, I'm up to my ass in alligators and y'all are smiling and waving at me from the boat."

"Just think about it, Q," Santana said. "I'm serious, no bullshit. That's all I'm asking."

God, this was all so stupid. She and Rachel had known each other for like five minutes. They weren't really much more than acquaintances.

"Fine, S, whatever, " Quinn said tersely. "Right now I need to go. I'll see you later."

She hung up the phone before Santana could add anything else or she could say something she'd regret.

She was surprised to realize she was genuinely not very happy at the moment. She felt as though Santana had taken what was a nice guilty pleasure and turned it into something complicated and corrupted and she really wasn't exactly sure why.

"Damn it, Santana," she hissed quietly to herself

Quinn knew the minute she heard Lane Hudson's name come into the picture that it would get Santana all riled up. It was equally ridiculous to think she could ever keep Santana from finding out.

The bottom line in all of it: She just didn't want Rachel to feel used.

God, Mr. Arnstein, where in the hell are you?

**=^..^= **

Quinn spent the remainder of her day playing catch up. She touched base with several clients, checked and re-baited traps, made the rounds of some of her network, handing out new flyers and checking up on old leads.

It was nearly dark before she got back to Rachel's complex and put out two more baited traps and checked those she'd set earlier. One held a hissing, droning Tasmanian-devil masquerading as a house cat whose collar indicated he was, ironically and inexplicably, named, Sweetie. She opened the trap with a stick only to have the hellion round back on her, apparently intent on showing her a thing or two. She carried a can of compressed air for such an occasion and she blasted him in the face for his troubles. He backed off a few feet and glared at her for a several minutes then flipped his tail at her and stalked off into the woods.

"There's no such thing as a free meal, buddy," she muttered, as she re-baited the trap. She slid it back into its sheltered location, re-set it and then scrambled up, pausing to dust herself off.

She walked back to her truck and started to get in when she noticed a light come on in what she guessed to be Rachel's bedroom. She saw Rachel walk across the room, then she noticed that Finn was trailing a long behind her. He said something and it made Rachel laugh. Quinn realized she could hear that laugh now in her head and it made her smile.

She was still smiling when she saw Finn take the few steps across the room and put his arms around Rachel. When he kissed her, the smile faded away to nothing and she suddenly felt like someone had punched her in the stomach.

"Yeah, well, fuck you, Fuzz," she muttered and climbed into the cab.

She was in a bad mood for the rest of the evening.

She blew off dinner.

She texted Puck and fibbed about being "busy" and then refused all calls and text messages that followed. She ate by herself at a Greek diner and then disappeared into the stacks of her favorite used book store until they closed. Still not wanting to go home, she ducked into a late showing at a retro theater and sat staring at the screen – not really paying attention but not really thinking about anything either.

It was nearly midnight when she stepped back out onto the sidewalk and started toward the truck. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she pulled it out, expecting either Santana or Puck, or maybe even Brittany. Instead, she was surprised to see it was Rachel.

Oh, please don't let that cat be dead.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked immediately, when Quinn answered.

"Yes, I'm fine" Quinn said, laughing. "I was actually going to ask you the same thing."

"No. I mean, yes, I'm fine as well," Rachel assured her. "I think your friends may be worried about you though."

"How do you know that?" Quinn asked quietly, already dreading the answer.

"Well, your friend Brittany called me, " Rachel admitted hesitantly.

"Oh my god," Quinn groaned, covering her face with her hand. "Rachel, I'm so, so sorry. It's so late. I don't even know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Rachel told her. "And you don't have to apologize either. She just called to ask if I'd heard from you. They're worried. It's sweet."

"No, it's annoying and embarrassing and borderline pathalogical. See this is why you should never feed strays," Quinn said, shaking her head. "They never leave and are all up in your business."

"Suffice to say from your sarcastic tone, you are fine," Rachel observed. "I, for one, am greatly relieved."

"Yes, I'm fine. I just let myself be lost for a little while. I was just going home when you called," she assured her. "You can rest assured that my former friends and now soon-to-be former employees will be hearing from me in short order."

"I'm glad to hear you're on your way home, " Rachel said. "But you can't fire them, at least not yet, not until you find my cat. Once that's done, they're at your mercy."

"That sounds fair," Quinn observed amicably.

"I am nothing if not merciful and practical," Rachel agreed.

Quinn chuckled. Other adjectives came to her mind as well and she pushed them away.

"I can see that," she told her, smiling.

"Rachel, are you coming to bed soon?" Finn interrupted whining from somewhere in the background. It instantly broke the mood.

Quinn and Rachel both sighed deeply.

"I'm sorry they interrupted your evening," Quinn told her, but she really wasn't sorry at all.

"There was nothing, it's not...we weren't...nothing was interrupted," Rachel said quickly. "I'm just glad you're okay."

Quinn wondered if that denial was for her benefit or just Rachel being... Rachel. She seemed to be very precise.

"I'm sorry you were worried," Quinn told hre truthfully.

"Well, if that's true and you'd really like to keep it that way," Rachel continued. "You can text me when you get home, just so I'll know."

Quinn bit her lip and chewed.

"I can do that," Quinn said quietly. "I'll do it while I'm waiting for the police after I kill whoever is still at the house."

"That will be sufficient," Rachel insisted. "Then you can call me after the arraignment and I'll bail you out."

"Okay, it's a deal," Quinn teased. "Goodnight, Ms. Berry."

"Be careful, Ms. Fabray," Rachel answered.

"I will," Quinn promised.

"I'm glad," Rachel said, chuckling.

"Rachel...come on, please," Finn whined loudly.

Quinn heard Rachel shush him, clearly annoyed.

"I'm sorry, I have to go,"she said. "Maybe I'll see you at the arraignment."

Quinn smiled.

"I'll save you a seat," she offered. "Just in case."

"It's a date," Rachel said. "Until then, I'll be watching for that text.

"Goodnight, Rachel," she said.

"Night, Quinn, " Rachel answered and disconnected the call.

Quinn drove home with a small smile on her face.

She paused in the garage to send a brief text to Rachel as she requested.

"Home safe, sound – optional. Goodnight. ~Q

The three stooges were in the living room pretending to watch television when she walked into the house. They all watched as she walked through the living room, down the hall and straight into her bedroom, slamming the door. Then they all looked at each other.

"Okay," Brittany said, her mouth an angry line. "Which one of you did it?"

Puck and Santana stared at each other, mouths gaping, shoulders hunched up in denial.

"Well I don't care," Brittany continued. "I'm mad at both of you anyway."

She got up and walked down the hall and knocked on Quinn's door. Quinn yanked it open, but saw it was Brittany and cooled quickly.

"What, sweetie?" she asked.

"Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked. "I'm mad at San and Puck."

Quinn sighed. She reached her hand out and smoothed Brittany's hair, tucking it behind her ear.

"Don't be mad at them, " she told her. "They didn't do anything wrong. Not really."

"I don't care," she insisted with a pout. "I'm still mad at them."

Quinn chewed on her lip for a minute, then she pulled her door open and let Brittany step inside. She immediately went over to Pie who was curled in his bed. He whined and wiggled and Brittany petted him.

"He looks really sad, Quinn," she said, looking up at her, her normally-bright blue eyes cloudy.

"Brittany, honey, don't, " she said, shaking her head. "I can only do so much today."

Brittany sighed and stroked his head gently. Quinn could hear her talking softly to him, but just blocked out what she was saying. She pulled of her jeans and fell onto the bed, shifting over to the far side, leaving room.

Brittany stood up and dropped her jeans. Then she started pulling off her shirt as well.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked quickly, her eyes wide.

"I'm taking my clothes off so I can go to sleep," she told her reasonably.

"Sweetie, let's do this," Quinn suggested. "Let's sleep in our clothes tonight, 'kay?"

"Like camping?" she asked

"Okay, yeah, like camping," Quinn agreed.

"Cool," Brittany said, smiling.

Brittany climbed in beside her and Quinn rolled onto her back. Brittany instantly scooted over and tucked her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"You like her, don't you?" she asked quietly. "That's why you're upset."

"I don't know why I'm upset, B," Quinn answered, closing her eyes. "I really can't think about it right now. You know, I think I'm just tired today."

"Santana says you get funny this way when you like someone," Brittany offered helpfully.

"Don't take this wrong, sweetie," Quinn said. "But I don't want to know what San thinks of all this or Puck either for that matter."

"I think you like her and I think she likes you, too." Brittany said. "You didn't say you didn't want to know what I thought."

Quinn smiled.

"You're right. I didn't, did I?" she answered. "B, I barely even know this girl. Besides, she has a boyfriend, Brit."

"That doesn't matter," Brittany said. "San..."

She stopped immediately and waited to see if Quinn would scold her again, but she didn't. She just sighed.

"B, despite what you have been told, it does," Quinn told her. "It matters and I don't want to get into the middle of that situation."

"What if she didn't have a boyfriend, then what?" Brittany asked.

Quinn rolled over and kissed Brittany on the head.

"Go to sleep pretty blonde girl in my bed," she said, smiling.

Thirty minutes later, Quinn was still awake, staring at the ceiling. She heard her phone buzz, so she reached carefully over a snoring Brittany and picked it up.

R: Did you kill anyone? :o}

Q: No, not yet. You?

R: No, not yet. Were you asleep?

Q: Not exactly.

R: ?

Q: Brit is mad at Puck and San. She's taken refuge with me. She steals covers and snores = no sleep.

R: LOL. One would think sleeping with pretty blondes wouldn't be so... unpleasant.

Q: Ha ha. I wouldn't know, I generally sleep solo. Besides, I don't sleep with blondes as a rule.

R: Good to know.

Q: I can't believe I just said that. Please delete.

R: Too late. It goes in the file.

Q: Well shit.

R: Ah, a vice rears its ugly head.

Q: Sorry.

R: Don't be. But it goes in the file as well.

Q: Damn that file.

R: :o}

Q: =^..^=

R: LOL! LOL!

Q: :o}

R: Quinn?

Q: ?

R: I don't think I can do breakfast today.

Q: :o{

Q: Teasing. That's okay.

R: No, it is :o{ I like it – breakfast, I mean.

Q: I'm sure I'll see you soon.

R: It's day 3

Q: I know.

R: ?

Q: Come in to the office. We'll talk.

R: K

Q: Lunch is on me.

R: :o}

Q: You like squeeze cheese, yeah?

R: -_-

Q: Thought so, cool.

R: ha ha ha = snot.

R: not, not. Not snot. Not

Q: lol

R: OMG, I'm sorry!

Q: I've been called much worse.

Q: And deserved it.

R: augh. :o/

Q: Rachel, stop.

Q: It's fine

Q: Nothing to forgive.

R: facepalm

Q: You're blushing.

R: Not either.

Q: So are.

R: You're making me.

Q: heh.

There was a long pause. Quinn thought she might have fallen asleep.

R: Quinn?

Q: ?

R: Are we flirting?

Quinn's breath disappeared. She just stared at the screen trying to decide how to answer.

R: Sorry, sorry – too blunt for my own good. Please delete.

Q: Too late. It goes in the file.

R: No, not the file. well, fuck.

Q: Ah, language. lol = two vices in common.

R: Blunt = vice, too. That's three vices for me, 50 for you.

Yeah, no kidding. So let's see how you handle a dose of your own medicine, Rachel Berry.

Q: Do you want to be?

R: Too blunt?

Q: Flirted with

Rachel felt her face flush and she glanced guiltily over at the man sleeping next to her. What she wanted to say and what she should say were two different things and now she really, really wished the question hadn't slipped out of her head onto the screen and bypassed her brain.

R: Hazy - ask again at a later time.

How's that for biting yourself in the ass, Q? That's why you don't ask stupid questions.

Q: Understood.

Again there was a long pause.

R: please don't stop.

That punched in the stomach feeling was back, but upside down.

Q: You sure?

R: Yes.

Q: Okay.

Q: :o}

R: Goodnight, Quinn.

Q: G'night Rachel

R: I'll call you later.

Q: M'kay.

They both lay staring at the ceiling, replaying their conversation.

There was a soft knock on Quinn's door. She groaned and climbed carefully over Brittany. She wasn't surprised to find Santana standing on the other side, looking miserable.

"I can't sleep," she told her sounding miserable as well. "I'm sorry for whatever I did."

"I know," Quinn said with a sigh.

"Can I have B back now?" she asked.

Quinn laughed. She pulled her into a hug and then kissed her cheek. She pulled the door open wide and stepped to the side.

"Go on," Quinn insisted. "You sleep here. I'll go sleep on the couch."

"Really?" Santana asked, smiling softly.

"Yes, really," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Hurry up before I wake up and come to my fucking senses."

"Thanks, Q," Santana said.

Quinn nodded. She picked up her phone, her jeans and her tennis shoes and rolled them into a bundle.

Loki hissed unhappily from the corner.

"He won't, like, chew my ears off in my sleep will he?" Santana asked scowling in the cat's general direction.

"He never has before," Quinn said with a not-very-reassuring shrug. "I guess there's always a first time though. Sleep tight."

She grinned and pushed Santana lightly toward the bed, shutting the door behind her. She could hear Loki droning loudly.

Quinn walked into the living room. She found Puck sleeping soundly in the recliner, a bottle of beer clenched precariously in one hand and Mojo sleeping on his lap.

She put her bundle on the coffee table and a black magic marker rolled off onto the floor. She bent and picked it up and then grinned. Quietly, she went over and gently drew a Snidely Whiplash handlebar mustache on Puck's face. Then she drew tassels around his nipples. Her artwork might have been more extensive, but Mojo was blocking the canvas.

"That's for this whole mess with Rachel, dickhead," she muttered.

**=^..^= **

**DAY THREE**

Quinn slept fitfully. She tossed and turned for a couple of hours and then finally just gave up, showered quickly and got dressed. She scribbled a note for Puck asking him to take care of the animals morning routine and then she slipped out into the garage.

She didn't like to check traps while it was dark, especially in the early morning. It was dangerous all the way around. She like to wait until at least first light. With nowhere else to go, she went to the office and worked on paperwork she'd been ignoring until sunrise. Once the sun peeked over the horizon, she started checking traps – working her grid map to maximize her efforts. Since breakfast was off the table, so to speak, she hit Rachel's complex early. She quickly checked the ones closed to Rachel's house and then fanned out to the outlying ones – she re-baited and re-set with practiced speed and was ready to move on in less that 30 minutes.

Hopping behind the wheel, she turned the key. The engine groaned and sputtered, but wouldn't catch. She waited a few minutes and tried again with equally unproductive results.

"Goddamn it," she hissed.

She groaned and banged her head on the steering wheel. When the stars cleared she got out and raised the hood, which shrieked like a teenage girl at a Disney Channel taping.

Her vast knowledge of engines consisted of putting in wiper fluid and sometimes jump starting the odd dead battery. She could point out the spark plugs and some other components, but that was about it. She stood staring hoping that something would jump out at her. When someone placed a hand on her should, she was the one that did the jumping – right out of her skin.

"Won't start?" Finn asked, watching Quinn pant and clutch at her heart. He was dressed in jogging attire and appeared to have not started his routine yet.

"Holy hell, Fritz," she wheezed, scowling. "You scared the piss out of me."

"Sorry," he said. "Is your truck stalled?"

"I don't know," she said. "If not starting is stalled, then yeah, it is."

"It's a piece of shit," he offered helpfully.

"Thanks," she said sarcastically. "I'm hoping to upgrade once my career takes off."

"Are you an actress?" he asked.

She rolled her eyes.

"No, Fritz," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not. I'm just doing this until my career as a waitress takes hold."

"Oh, that's cool, " he said.

Oh my god, Rachel, seriously? This is your first choice?

Quinn was now carefully reconsidering her position on Puck's whole mercy fuck theory and how it might apply to Rachel. She was running through various intoxicating scenarios of putting the sexy little brunette out of misery, so to speak, when Captain Oblivious interrupted her. It added another nail in his virtual coffin.

"You know my name's not Fritz, right?" he asked.

Quinn feigned shocked and shrugged.

"OMG, I thought it was, sorry," she said sardonically.

"It's okay, though. Rach says you're only teasing me, " he added.

"Rach is pretty smart, huh?" Quinn noted.

"Yeah, she's way smart," he agreed. "That's why I don't understand why she's paying you guys."

Alright, Quinn smiled and nodded. This guy was really going to try and take a piss at her? For real? Okay, she mused. Let's go, Sloe Gin Fizz.

Maybe she needed to tell him how he'd interrupted her daydream of eight amazing ways how she might have her way with his girlfriend so that she'd want to eighty-six him right out her life.

"You don't think she should get her cat back?" she asked politely.

"It's not that," he said. "I just don't think you can find him. I think you guys are fakes."

**Number one:** Sweep everything off the table on the patio and have her right there. Coffee, tea or Rachel. No muss, no fuss, no more Sloe Gin Fizz.

"Well, Fez," she said with a derisive chuckle. "I'm sorry you feel that way. Fortunately, there are plenty of others who know the opposite to be true. Look at it this way. I've been up for three hours already, working. Do you know many grifters who put that much effort into their pretend jobs?"

"So prove it," he said smugly. "Make me a believer. Let me see what you do."

**Number two:** On that nice wide, sturdy kitchen table. Or maybe the counter – it was a nice comfortable height. Perfect, especially if she's wearing one of those pretty little summer dresses she seems to favor. Very accessible, adaptable to any scenario.

"Well, as much as I would so love to do that," she said. "I'm afraid today's Rachel's last day. After tonight we're probably not working for her anymore."

That wasn't true – she was just telling him that. She'd work this case until hell froze over now – for free if she had to – if for no other reason than just to spite him. She was wondering what else she might now do just to spite him.

"I'll buy her more time, " he offered. "How does it work?"

Hello? McFlynn? What the fuck? I'll pay you more money to prove you're a crook stealing my girlfriend's money, really? Come on, Rachel. Come on! Why? This guy must have mad bedroom skillz, which Quinn immediately realized she didn't want to know and/or think about, at all, ever.

"Look, Rachel's been paying by the day," she told him, which was more than she should have and all he was going to get. It was up to Rachel to discuss it with him if she wanted him to know.

"How much?" He asked, pulling out his wallet. She saw a healthy sheaf of bills. He was clearly used to getting his way with money.

**Number Three:** That big king bed she saw in Rachel's bedroom looked awfully comfortable. It's hard to beat the classics. Of course, they would have to boil any sheets he might have slept on. Maybe burn them and just start over.

"Look boyfriend," she said in a low tone, stepping in his direction. "This is Rachel's business. My contract is with Rachel. If you want to buy her some more time, that's great. I'm all for it. But you need to go through her. Talk to her and then have her call me. If she tells me she's okay with it, then we'll work it out. If that happens, then I'll take you with me – show you how the scam works if you like. Until then, I think we've had quite enough quality time together for today."

"I'll talk to her," he said. "I'll tell her to call you, but you gotta go with whatever story she brings you."

**Number Four:** On those stairs. It might need some extra padding, but it could be hot, really hot.

"No, no, I'm not going to lie to Rachel for you," she told him honestly. "That's not happening. No way. How you tell her is your problem, but just keep that in mind. If she brings me some wagon load of crap, I'm going to spill it. And if you stink as a result, too bad."

Make another asshole suggestion like that one and I'll start telling you about my list – out loud – in graphic detail. I'm talking not just where, but how and how many times. Try me fish-boy. I'm a good storyteller.

With that she slammed the hood down. She climbed in the cab and turned the key. Karma was in her favor today, because the engine turned over and she put the truck in gear. With one final burning glare in his direction, she pulled away from the lot.

**=^..^= **

Quinn walked into the office and slammed the front door. Brittany jumped and looked scared.

"Rachel's waiting in your office," she told her anxiously.

"Great," Quinn said. " Just perfect."

She dropped her things next to Brittany's desk and strode quickly down the hall to her office.

Rachel stood up and smiled when she saw her.

"Hey," she said, and opened her mouth to say something more, but Quinn never gave her the chance to finish. She grabbed her roughly around the waist and sealed their mouths together.

Stunned, Rachel blinked rapidly and put her hand on Quinn's chest – she wasn't sure yet if she wanted to push her away or pull her closer.

Quin slid her lips so that they fit tightly over Rachel's and kissed her hard. Rachel still had yet to respond. Quinn put a hand on the back of her neck, holding her. She let her lips soften and dared to pull Rachel's bottom lip between her own and suck softly.

Come on, Rachel, she pleaded. Give me something here.

Rachel sighed, softened in her arms and her hand fisted into Quinn's shirt.

Okay, I can work with this, Quinn thought happily.

Quinn dared to swipe her tongue over Rachel's lips and she moaned and parted them, allowing Quinn inside.

Yes!

Rachel moaned and Quinn's brain hummed alive like crossed wires. She pulled away and buried her face in the crook of Rachel's neck, licking and sucking.

"Here," Rachel said, taking her hand. "Touch me, here."

She pushed Quinn's hand into her...

Quinn woke with a start, her mouth dry, her face damp with sweat. It was sweltering inside the cab even with all the windows rolled down.

Ah, fuck, she groaned.

Her phone rang again.

"Hello," she said thickly.

"I thought we were meeting for lunch" Rachel said, sounding concerned.

"We are," she said, rubbing her eyes. "Where are you?"

"I'm at your office," she told her. "Question is, where are you?"

"I'm somewhere," Quinn said, trying to put her thoughts together and form sentences. "I...give me a minute."

"Did I wake you?" Rachel asked.

"Sort-of, " Quinn admitted. "I'll be there in ten minutes."

She hung up and started the truck. She finally had her bearings and wheel it into traffic. It was more like fifteen minutes before she walked through the front door, letting the door slam behind her.

Brittany frowned up at her.

"Rachel's in your office," she told her.

"I know, thanks." she told her.

She dropped her things next to Brittany's desk and drug herself down the hall.

Rachel smiled and stood up when she saw her.

"Hey," she said with a soft laugh. "You look pretty frazzled. Poor baby."

She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed her softly, her hands stroking on her neck.

Quinn blinked and stood dumbly, not sure what to do.

Rachel pulled back and frowned slightly.

"What's the matter?" she asked, "Don't you like when I do that?"

"Of course, I do," Quinn admitted. "I'm just surprised, that's all."

"Well isn't this number five?" she asked.

"What?" Quinn replied, totally confused now.

"Isn't this number five?" Rachel repeated, tilting her head adorably. "You know, where you make love to me right here on your desk when no one else is around?"

"How do you know about that?" Quinn asked quickly, equal parts horrified and aroused.

"Q!" Puck shouted, blasting the horn.

Quinn jerked awake.

"What in the hell are you doing?" he asked.

She could still see the faint outline of the Sharpie mustache still on his lip and smirked. She sat up and looked around. She was parked in the parking lot behind their office.

"I repeat, what in the hell are you doing?" he asked loudly.

"I have no idea," she told him honestly.

"Your damned girlfriend is waiting in your office, " he said.

She frowned.

"Why?" she muttered. "And she's not my girlfriend."

"She said you have a lunch date with her," he said, smirking. "Is that true?"

"Sort of," she said. "She was supposed to call first."

She sighed and pushed the door open, groaning as loudly as it did.

"God, fix that fucking thing for crying out loud," she hissed.

"It gives it character," he replied.

"That's not the dumbest thing you're ever said," she pointed out. "But it might be Top 10."

She picked up her things and followed him into the building.

"Come here," he said, staring at her. "You got a snot thing going on here."

He drug his thumb along her upper lip a couple of times until she slapped at him to quit.

"Okay, you're good," he declared. "As good as you get anyway. You might want to look into a razor, kinda fuzzy there."

"Shut up, dickhead," she grumbled. "Go do something useful."

"Oh right," he scoffed. "Whatever you say there, She-who-sleeps-in-Truck."

She scowled at him and growled. He held up his hands and backed away.

Rachel was flipping through a magazine when she walked in the office.

"Hey," she said looking up. "I just thought I'd take a chance and come by."

"Hi," Quinn grunted and dropped her things. She moved quickly behind her desk and out of Rachel's possible reach. She wasn't taking any chances – two weird Rachel dreams was plenty.

Rachel was staring at her, curiously.

"What?" she finally asked.

Rachel bit her lower lip, then reached in her purse and pulled out her compact. She handed it to Quinn, clearly trying not to smile.

Quinn scoffed and took it from her, rolling her eyes.

"Oh ha ha, my hair's messed up, right?" she said and glanced at the mirror.

She had a thick black grease smudge all along her top lip where Puck had drug his thumb.

"Son of a bitch," she hissed. "That fucking..."

She jumped up and made for the door, but Rachel stepped smoothly in front of her. Quinn stopped abruptly and stared at her,

"Sit," Rachel said quietly and Quinn obediently sat down on the corner of her desk.

"Thank you," Rachel said with a smile.

She pulled out a tissue from her purse and brought it up to Quinn's face. Quinn instinctively jerked her head back.

"Just...let me," Rachel said gently and she daubed at the smear. The whole time she worked, she had her eyes focused on Quinn's mouth.

Quinn, on the other hand, had her eyes focused on Rachel's face. She could feel the girl's breath fluttering against her skin. Rachel tucked her tongue at the corner of the mouth while she worked and Quinn's mouth dropped open. She couldn't stop staring at it.

"There, good as new," Rachel announced, clearly pleased with her work. She raised her eyes to meet Quinn's and they looked at each other, neither blinking.

"Oh," Quinn said stupidly. "Thanks."

I could just kiss her – the thought kept running through Quinn's mind.

She watched Rachel swallow hard and take a deep breath. She ran her tongue across her lips leaving them shiny, glistening. She leaned in closer as her impossibly soft brown eyes dropped to Quinn's mouth and then back up to her eyes again.

She might as well have just screamed in her face: Please kiss me now.

Well, since she asked so nicely, I guess I could oblige, Quinn told herself. It's only polite.

"My, my, isn't this cozy?" Santana drawled with a resounding smirk in her voice.

Quinn's eyes rolled all the way back in her head and she clenched her teeth together so hard they cracked.

Rachel smiled sweetly and stepped back.

"She had some dirt on her lip," she explained truthfully.

"I'm sure she did," Santana purred wickedly. "Our Quinn's a dirty girl. She plays hard."

"Oh my god," Quinn said almost inaudibly, dropping her head in resignation. "Just fucking kill me now."

Rachel chuckled noting Quinn's cheeks go pink.

"You must be Santana, " she said, turning her attention to the other brunette in the room.

"The one, the only, the amazing," she sassed. "And you have to be Rachel."

"I have to be," Rachel agreed, laughing.

"I would have known you anywhere, " Santana said, smiling wolfishly. "Puck and Q have talked about you so much."

"Really?" Rachel said, interested. "Nice things I hope."

"Oh very," Santana assured her, nodding for emphasis. "You're a very popular topic of conversation."

"That must make for very dull conversation, I'm afraid," Rachel said.

"Not at all," Santana said. "Quite the opposite. You know I was just telling Q that she should bring you around sometime."

Santana could feel the daggers Quinn was glaring at him.

"She mentioned something about that, " Rachel admitted and laughed at Santana's reaction.

"Really?" she said, not bothering to mask her surprise. "Normally Quinn doesn't do anything anyone tells her. She's always the one sitting outside the principal's office."

"I don't believe that," Rachel insisted. "If you ask me Quinn's quite the good girl."

"Would it shock you to know she slept with my girlfriend last night? Santana teased.

Rachel grinned and glanced at Quinn, who rolled her eyes.

"Not at all," Rachel said, shrugging.

"Rachel knows that Brit slept with me last night," Quinn confirmed, smirking at Santana's confused expression.

"Why is everyone in here?" Puck asked, lurking in the doorway.

"Gee, why don't you come in here, Noah," Quinn hissed.

"No, I'm good," he said, quickly shrinking into the hall.

Quinn's eyes narrowed angrily at him and he made certain to keep Santana between himself and Quinn at all times.

"Hey Rachel," he said, dragging his eyes lazily up her body with a slow, crooked smile on his face.

"Hello Noah," she said, laughing. She could feel his eyes on her, but now she couldn't see him as anything else but harmless.

He, however, could feel the heat coming off of Quinn who was openly glaring at him now. She wasn't harmless.

"Why are you all in here?" Quinn finally snapped.

"Rut roh," Noah said, making a sad face. "We're all in trouble now."

Rachel giggled.

"Don't be nice to them," Quinn scolded. "It only encourages them."

"You, get out and get busy," she barked at Puck, Puck grabbed onto Santana's shoulders, hiding. Santana promptly reach behind her head and batted him in the ear loudly.

"Get off me you idiot," she said, smacking at him again. "Have you lost it completely? If Q doesn't kill you, I will."

He pushed Santana at Quinn and went yelling into the front office for Brittany to save him.

"Why are you here?" Quinn asked, rounding on Santana now.

"For B, of course," she said, shrugging like it was obvious. And it was.

"Puck says you are picking on him and that I'm to tell you both to stop," Brittany said, lingering in the doorway.

"So?" Quinn said.

"He said that you would say that and that I'm to tell you if you don't stop, he won't cook for a month," she recited with a sad expression on her face. "And he won't kill spiders, get take-out and he especially won't do that other thing he does that you like so much."

"What other thing?" Quinn asked, confused.

"He said, you would say that and I'm supposed to say, " Lick you know where until you can't breath and pass out."

"Goddamn it, Puck," Quinn bellowed.

"Brittany!" Santana said, putting her hand on her wrist, laughing. "Don't listen to him."

"Does he really do that, Quinn?" Brittany asked innocently.

Quinn yelled gibberish.

"No, B," Santana assured her, still laughing. "That's some.. no, that's bullshit, honey."

"That lying motherfuc...," Quinn blustered and then realized Rachel was collapsed over on herself, laughing.

"I'm glad you're amused," Quinn said unhappily.

Rachel held up her hands and tried to look apologetic but failed miserably.

"Well that's what I thought," Brittany said. "Especially seeing how Quinn really likes..."

"Nyyyuuuh," Quinn blurted out loudly as Santana clapped a hand over Brittany's mouth and held it, whispering furiously in her ear.

Rachel's head jerk up and she stared at Santana and Brittany and then looked at Quinn who groaned and fell into her chair with her arms thrown over head praying for a lightening bolt to strike her. Finally she regained what little remained of her dignity and composure and she stood up.

"You," she said, pointing at Santana. "Go back to work and take her with you."

"You," she said, pointing at Brittany. "Stop repeating shit Puck tells you. You know he's a liar."

"And you," she said, crooking her finger at Rachel. "Come with me."

Quinn snatched up her things and stalked out the door.

Rachel stood up and smiled at both Brittany and Santana.

"Nice meeting you," she told Santana.

"Nice seeing you again," she told Brittany.

Then she scooted past them and followed Quinn down the hall and out the back door. Quinn opened the truck door and Rachel climbed in. She walked around and got behind the wheel, started it up and then squealed tires out of the parking lot.

Rachel reached to fasten her seat belt, but one side just came off in her hand. She frowned nervously. Noticing, Quinn slowed down considerably. She drove them to the beach and drove up and down until she found her favorite food truck vendor. She got out, then walked around and opened the door for Rachel. They walked up to the menu board and stood reading.

"Everything's good," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel turned and looked at her and Quinn smiled, nodding.

"Okay, " she said.

They waited their turn and then Quinn placed her order and moved aside so Rachel could give hers. She could barely see the window.

"Would you like me to boost you up?" Quinn teased and Rachel cut her eyes at her.

Quinn paid and they found a table while they waited.

"It's pretty here," Rachel said, looking around.

Quinn grunted.

They sat in silence.

"Are we going to be weird now?" Rachel finally asked with a sigh.

"I don't know, " Quinn said, shrugging half-heartedly.

"Nothing is different, " Rachel said. "It's the same as it was yesterday."

"Not really, no," Quinn said, pouting.

"It is," Rachel said under her breath. "Nothing has changed. I just know you and your friends a little better, that's all."

Quinn stared at her.

They called their number and Quinn went and picked up their food.

"Can we eat here?" Rachel asked. "It's nice."

"Sure," Quinn said, sitting back down.

"Okay," Rachel said. "So let's talk about something else."

Quinn just looked up at her, chewing disinterestedly.

"Fizz," Rachel started, then quickly corrected herself. "I mean, Finn said he talked to you this morning."

Quinn smiled slightly.

"I don't want him paying for anything," Rachel said. "Thank you for not telling him anything. I hate when he does that."

Quinn just nodded.

"I want to pay you, though," Rachel said. "For three more days."

Quinn chewed and swallowed and took a long sip from her iced tea.

"You don't have to," she told her.

"No, but I want to," Rachel insisted, her eyes pleading. "Please don't quit."

"I'm not quitting," Quinn said, her eyes everywhere but on Rachel. "You just don't have to pay me."

"Oh yes, I do," Rachel said. "I can't ask you to keep looking and not pay you. I'm not comfortable with that."

"Okay, fine," Quinn said. "Whatever. Three more days then. We can bill you."

"Stop it," Rachel said, slamming her hand down on the table.

Quinn looked up at her slowly.

"Stop what?" she asked.

"I'm sorry you're embarrassed," Rachel said. "Or whatever. But I can't have you not looking at me, not talking to me. I want it back like it was before."

"It wasn't anything before, Rachel," Quinn said. "I mean we hardly know each other. We were just... starting to, I guess."

"So go back to that," Rachel offered. "I'll take that. I want that back."

Quinn sighed and leaned on her hand.

Rachel grabbed onto her wrist and pulled it down, forcing Quinn to look at her.

"Just be... Quinn again," she said. "The girl who's looking for my cat."

Quinn stared at the table in front of her.

"No promises," Quinn said, truthfully. "But I'll try."

Rachel bounced happily in her seat then picked up her fork and started eating.

"This is good," she said. "Your stuff is good. Mine is better though."

Quinn rolled her eyes and then laughed.

"Your stuff is cake," Quinn said. "This is food. You can't live on cake."

Rachel's bottom lip puffed out.

"Okay, it is really awesome cake, " Quinn admitted.

Rachel smiled.

Quinn smiled back at her.

"So, about what Puck said," Rachel asked, twiring her fork in the air.

"Oh my God," Quinn groaned, dropping her head down on the table.

Rachel laughed loudly and reached out and ruffled her hair.

"This is good," she said again, chewing happily. "Everything's good. Not as good as breakfast, but good."

**=^..^= **

**DAY FOUR**

To Do:

*Check traps

*Have breakfast with Rachel

*IGNORE everyone else

*Maim Puck on sight

Mr Arnstein was still a no-show.

Puck had wisely gone into hiding

The coffee cake was raspberry.

Breakfast was a quickie. Two cups of coffee, two pieces of sweet roll. They both had to run out to busy days. Rachel had an audition and then she was having dinner with Flint and the rest of the family Flintstone.

Quinn could tell she was nervous about both.

"You'll be great," she insisted, stealing strawberries off of Rachel's plate when she wasn't looking. "Everyone will love you."

"From your mouth.." she said anxiously.

"Have them call me," Quinn said, teasing. "I'll give them a glowing recommendation."

"I wish it were that easy," Rachel said, looking at her.

Quinn looked relaxed and happy. A vast improvement over the weirdness from the previous day's lunch.

"It is," Quinn said. "It's just that easy. They need you more than you need them. Just believe that."

Rachel looked highly skeptical and shoved her plate of uneaten danish at Quinn who grabbed it excitedly.

When they were finished Quinn carried the dishes to the sink and rinsed them out and loaded the dishwasher while Rachel put the food away. Rachel walked her to the door and then held the door for her.

"Be good," she told her and Quinn laughed at the thought.

"You break a leg," Quinn said, pointing a scolding finger at her.

"I'll try," Rachel said, shrugging.

"Do or do not, " Quinn insisted and Rachel stared blankly at her.

"You know," Quinn said, "Do or do not. There is no try."

Again, crickets.

"Yoda?"

Rachel shook her head and Quinn stumbled in shock.

"Wha...I can't even...Rachel, Rachel," she said shaking her head.

Rachel shrugged.

"You poor thing," Quinn said dramatically.

Rachel just laughed.

"Have a nice dinner," Quinn said, smirking. "Tell Fivel I said, "Hello."

"I'll tell him from you if you tell Puck the same from me," Rachel said and Quinn turned back and glared at her.

Rachel just smiled sweetly and watched until Quinn got into her car.

When she checked her traps that evening Quinn glanced at Rachel's windows, but they were dark except for the reflection of the landing light.

She didn't know why, but it made her feel sad.

The house was empty when she got home. That didn't do anything to improve her mood either. She fixed herself some left-overs and carried the plate the the back deck and ate quietly. Then she sat and rolled Pie's tennis ball back and forth with him. He played excitedly for a little while and then he nodded off to sleep, something he was doing more and more these days. She lay back and watched the fireflies flit back and forth until her eyes closed.

She woke with a start when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She blinked a few times and sat up, rubbing her face. Pie had moved over closer to her and was sleeping with his head draped over her thigh.

She picked up her phone and glanced at it. It was just after 1 o'clock. Then she noticed there was a text message from Rachel. That must have been what woke her.

R: Aren't you a little short for a Stormtrooper?

Quinn blinked, did a double-take and then laughed in the dark.

Q: Funny, I get that a lot.

R: Actually, I do, too.

R: :o}~

R: G'night Quinn.

Q: Night Rachel.

**=^..^= **

**DAY FIVE**

To Do:

*Check traps

*Have breakfast with Rachel

*IGNORE everyone else

*Maim Puck on sight

The danish was pecan, there was still no cat and still no Puck.

It had been two full days since she'd spoken to Santana. Brittany broke down and cried, so she relented, but she was still only grunting at her for the most part.

Rachel put her plate in front of her and Quinn didn't even bother waiting for her. She picked up her fork and immediately started eating.

"We might need to have oatmeal once in awhile," Rachel said sitting down. "You know, waffles, maybe."

"Mmm, why?" Quinn asked, her mouth full. "S'good."

"Yes, it is good," Rachel agreed. "But it's not good for you."

Quinn frowned and grunted, shaking her head.

"No oatmeal," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"So are you telling me that if I serve oatmeal that you won't come around?" Rachel asked, looking wounded.

Quinn looked pensive for a moment.

"Yeah," she nodded. "That's what I'm saying."

Rachel scoffed.

"Bacon?" she said hopefully.

"I'm not fixing you bacon," Rachel declared, shaking her head. "I'll give you sugar, but that's as far as I'll go."

"Mmm, bacon danish," Quinn teased.

"You have crumbs on your face," Rachel told her, rolling her eyes.

Quinn brushed at her face with her napkin, smiling.

"Now?" she asked, looking at Rachel for inspection.

"Better," Rachel said. "Are you still not speaking to your friends."

"Yup," Quinn said, blowing on her coffee. It was still scalding hot and she sat it back down. Rachel dipped her fingers into her water glass, pulled out a small sliver of ice and dropped into Quinn's coffee.

Quinn quirked an eyebrow.

"Uh, thanks?" she said.

Rachel flicked the excess water at her.

"Why are you still angry with them?" Rachel asked curiously. "If it's on my account, don't be."

"It's not," Quinn said, sipping again and finding it just right.

"Quinn," she scolded.

"Rachel," she shrugged. "So how was dinner with the Futz family."

Now it was Rachel's turn to the try and change the subject.

"I got a call back on the audition I went on." she said, ignoring Quinn's original question.

Quinn's face lit up and she applauded.

"Told you they would love you," Quinn said smugly.

"I just hope they keep on loving me," Rachel said, fretting.

"They will," Quinn said, shrugging as though no other possibility existed. "They will."

"How can you be so sure?" Rachel asked.

"I just know these things," Quinn insisted and Rachel just smiled.

"Okay, no oatmeal for you," she said, reaching out and brushing crumbs off her cheek.

**=^..^= **


	6. Chapter 6: Leave the Tab Open

A/N: I'm a little bit enamored with this story at the moment so I'm running with it. Hopefully you're enjoying it as well. Thanks to all who have taken a moment to comment.

Chapter 6  
>Leave the Tab Open<p>

"Damn it," Quinn hissed loudly as she shimmied out from behind the trash dumpster. Again, the bait was gone and the trap was empty. Something was coming around, but it was either too smart or too small to trip the trap. Her first thought was a rat or even a squirrel.

The days burned quickly and Rachel's time was ticking away rapidly. Quinn didn't need an un-baited, hence unproductive, trap wasting even a minute of it. This time she tied the chicken leg to the bottom of the trap and toward the center – hopefully that would keep the phantom from stealing it though the wire from the outside, which is what she suspected.

Quinn came home to a dark and empty house again. Mojo greeted her at the door and followed in her wake every step she took until she fed him. Even Loki streaked into the kitchen to stare at her indignantly and ate the cat food she nudged in his direction. They weren't starving by any means, they just didn't like that their normal routine had been disrupted. They probably missed Puck, too. As much as he fussed about them, he spent a good deal of time fussing at them which was his own gruff way of showing affection. Loki didn't like overt displays of affection, but the Siamese in him couldn't resist making conversation and Puck obliged him.

She found Pie in his bed. He didn't even raise his head when she walked in, but he was obviously excited when she woke him and sat on the floor beside him. Most of his morning kibble was still in his dish and she fed him by hand until it was empty.

"Silly old man," she scolded him gently. "You can't stop eating on me."

He whined and pawed at her as though apologizing. She buried her face in his fur and hugged on him. Then she picked him up and carried him outside. He walk stiffly around the backyard and nosed into all of his usual spots. When he was done he started toward the door, but seemed to reconsider and made his way over to her instead and sat on her feet. He tipped his head back, looking up at her, blinking.

"Okay, it is a pretty long way, isn't it," she told him and then carried him back into the house and placed him in his bed. He curled up immediately and didn't bother with his grass-matting ritual. She sat on her bed and tried not to think about it. To her surprise, Loki came sauntering in. He looked her up and down with his usual disdain and then plopped down on the floor beside the sleeping dog. He patted him with his paw a few times as though trying to wake him and, when he didn't stir, climbed in beside him and snuggled down to sleep. Apparently he decided if Pie wouldn't play with him he just wouldn't play at all.

Quinn wondered whose heart would was going to be more broken at some point, hers or the mean little cat? No, it was hers. Definitely hers.

The refrigerator was getting pretty empty. She leaned heavily on the door, her eyes going from shelf to shelf, hoping to find something that would peak her appetite. She was clearly going to have to shop at some point or just start eating out until Puck resurfaced. He did most of the shopping because he did most of the cooking and she was first to admit being quite spoiled by it all.

She fixed herself a lackluster bowl of soup and a sandwich and sat at the table while she ate. After finishing about half of each she pushed it all away. She might be forced to make up with Noah just to get decent home-cooked meals again.

As much as she was loathe to admit it, she also needed him back in the office as well. Quinn found she was spending so much time doing the odds and ends he would normally cover that she was neglecting Rachel's case, which should have been her primary focus. He might bitch, whine and groan constantly, but he was a worker when she needed him to be.

Tomorrow was already the sixth day on Rachel's case and she needed to spend it going back over every stone, every possible lead, and that probably meant neglecting all the other things they had working. At least Brittany would be there for most of the day to deal with the phones, but that only stretched so far for clients paying by the day.

It didn't resolve her situation with Puck.

It wasn't like Puck was really lost – he was just laying low and waiting for her too cool off. She was fairly certain that he was either staying with his friend Sam or that he'd managed to wheedle his way onto Santana and Brittany's couch or some combination of both. If push came to shove, she could always track him down at the culinary academy. He wasn't about to miss classes over any squabbles they might be having and she had his schedule somewhere in her office.

Santana was a different matter. They could stay mad at each other for ages. They both were cut from the same stubborn cloth and wore it like a superhero cloak. She was perfectly content to wait for Santana to make the first conciliatory move and Santana was probably feeling much the same.

Damn it. If Santana had just been patient, she would have introduced her to Rachel, but, as usual, Santana the Ball-buster had to force the issue.

Brittany was, for the most part, just a casualty of friendly fire and had already been allowed back into Quinn's good graces. Knowing Brit, she would eventually bring the other two back around and then crack all their heads together in her own unique, subtle way until they came to their collective senses. Santana may give great schmooze, but Brittany made the best peace.

Quinn lay down on the couch and flipped through the channels but nothing caught her interest. She picked up the book she was reading and thumbed to her marked page. After reading the same sentence over about five times she finally abandoned that effort as well.

She reached for her cell phone and stared at it then started punching in keys.

Q: I'm wide awake and totally bored with myself. Just fyi.

She put the phone on her chest and picked up her book again vowing herself to push through at least a chapter. After 20 minutes, her phone chirped.

R: You miss the parolees and mental patients. You need to make up with your friends.

Q: Do not. And, no.

R: Admit it – you're an enabler. You thrive on chaos.

Q: I attract chaos, There's a difference.

R: Really, how so? Explain it to me.

Quinn scoffed. There she went listening to her again – it was so annoying.

Q: I don't know. There just is.

R: Just cause I said so. What a well-stated argument. Lol.

Q: yeah, yeah.

R: Again, another compelling response.

Q: I do my best debating in person.

R: I suppose I could come over.

Quinn choked. When was she going to learn with this girl? She took everything at face value.

R: Close your mouth. I'm teasing.

Quinn exhaled deeply and then laughed. Then she realized the vague nausea she felt was disappointment.

R: Quinn?

Q: Sorry, had to stop picking up the beer cans and underwear. You got me.

R: :o}

R: Besides I'm still waiting.

Q: ?

R: For you to make good on your original dinner invitation. I want to experience Puck's cuisine.

Q: Oh yeah.

Q: Hey wait, this is just a scheme to get me to make up with Puck.

R: You doubt my motives. I'm wounded.

R: I just want a free meal. I'm a working actress don't you know.

Q: Wait, working?

R: Yes, working. As of today. It's only a one-shot appearance, but I'll take it.

Q: Mazel tov.

R: Thank you.

Q: I told you.

R: You did.

Q: We should have celebrated.

Wow, Quinn, soooo smooth.

R: Actually, Finn took me to dinner.

Eyeroll to the extreme.

Q: Of course he did. Good old Flynn.

R: Not really. We got into a fight. I came home early.

And alone, Quinn noted. Stop smiling.

Q: I'm sorry.

R: Why don't I believe that?

Q:You doubt my sincerity. I'm wounded.

R :o}

Q: I am happy for you. About the part, I mean.

Q: Very.

R: I know.

R: Will I see you for coffee?

Q: Come hell or high water.

R: Sleep well, Quinn.

Q: You, too.

**=^..^=**

**DAY SIX**

To Do:

*Check traps  
>*Have breakfast with Rachel<br>*Consider talking to Santana  
>*Find that idiot Puck<p>

"Alright, Sweetie," Quinn said unhappily. "I've had about enough of feeding you."

Quinn tipped the trap and spilled the big nuisance of a tabby out onto the ground. He stalked a few steps away and waited while she baited the trap again. He had obviously learned that the price of a gourmet meal was a few hours of captivity and that meant this location was all but ruined. Anything she could do to dissuade him would also keep other cats from coming around as well. Reluctantly she hauled the trap back through the thicket toward the truck with Sweetie rambling along behind her until she reached the road. She pitched a chicken thigh back into the woods and he scampered off after it.

She'd have to find a new location for this and hope that he wouldn't track it down right away. She'd wait until after breakfast and hope he'd gone off home by then.

Quinn didn't even bother ringing the bell anymore. She just knocked a few times and then tried the door. Rachel now left it unlocked for her, which she scolded her for, but it never made any difference.

"What is that?" Rachel asked eagerly, her eyes landing on the paper bag Quinn carried into the house.

"Dunno," Quinn said with a shrug. "You'll have to wait and see."

"Wait until when?" she asked, moving closer to the bag Quinn placed on the kitchen table. Quinn knew she wanted to touch it, shake it.

"Hands off. At least until I've had some coffee," Quinn replied. She walked into the kitchen and pulled out her own coffee mug and fixed her coffee, then she carried it back to the table. It was misting rain outside so they were staying inside for their morning nosh. She sat down across from Rachel and sipped slowly, savoring.

"We have cinnamon rolls today," Rachel announced with a graceful hand flourish.

"Thank you," Quinn said, taking the plate she was offered.

"So, now?" Rachel asked, pointing at the bag. "About that."

"Mmmm," Quinn hemmed and seemed to be debating as she chewed her first bite.

"Please?" Rachel said, clasping her hands together eagerly.

"I suppose," Quinn nodded and Rachel snatched the bag up with an excited squeal. "It's just a little something to say congrats."

Rachel flashed her dimples at her and batted her eyes and Quinn felt her face get hot.

"I can't image..." Rachel said. "What could it be?"

She shook it vigorously.

"I suspect it's now a dead hamster," Quinn muttered into her coffee cup.

Rachel huffed and looked horrified. She opened the bag and cautiously peered inside, which greatly amused Quinn.

"It's just something I saw," Quinn said, frowning slightly. "It made me think of you for some reason."

Rachel gasped and looked at Quinn, then looked back into the bag. She finally reached inside and pulled out the contents, practically hugging it. It was a vintage Funny Girl lunch box.

Puck mentioned to Quinn that he had seen it at the local flea market where he was searching for pet carriers. She had immediately drug him right back and they went from stall to stall for more than an hour until they found it. It was rusted and broken, but Quinn bought it anyway.

"All that for a broken lunch pail for someone who is not your girlfriend," Puck teased.

"Shut up," she hissed, clearly embarrassed. Puck knew enough to keep his mouth shut at the time. An embarrassed Quinn was a particularly dangerous Quinn.

Puck fix the broken latch and polish it until it sparkled like brand new again and she found a new pink thermos for it. She even stenciled Rachel's name on the inside of the lid and added a gold star. She was hoping to give it to her when she found Mr. Arnstein.

"It's silly, right?" Quinn said. She could tell from the look on Rachel's face that it was anything but silly, but somehow Rachel wasn't saying anything. That couldn't be a good sign, could it?

"It's...it's...I don't..." Rachel stammered, running her fingers over the letters of her name.

"Oh please, no," Quinn muttered as the first big tear slid down Rachel's face.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I'm going outside and sit in the rain," Quinn threatened lightly, turning in her chair as though to get up.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, no," she said, sniffling and brushing at her face. "No, I'm not going to..."

Suddenly Rachel was hugging her fiercely around the neck from behind.

"It's perfect," she said, quietly. "I love...it."

Quinn felt lips brush against her cheek. Her insides turned instantly to jello.

"Thank you," Rachel told her.

Quinn patted her hands awkwardly.

"No problem," she said with a quirk of a smile. "I just thought you might like it."

"I do," she said, giggling and hugging her harder.

Quinn winced.

"Rachel," Quinn croaked, her voice raspy.

"Yes, Quinn?" Rachel asked happily.

"I can't breathe," she gasped. Her eyes were swimming with stars.

"Oh my god," Rachel said and turned her loose.

Quinn took a gasping breath, her face gone from pink to slightly bluish.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, trying not to laugh. "I'm sorry."

Quinn waved her off.

"You might want to think about the UFC," she told her. "If this other career thing doesn't work out."

Rachel pushed on her playfully, then ruffled her hair and she sat back down again, playing with her new keepsake.

"I'm going to carry my lunch in this," she announced. "Every day."

"Okay," Quinn said looking skeptical. She wondered how well that would be received by her co-workers. She'd hate to have to pummel anyone for teasing Rachel.

"I can't wait to show Finn, " Rachel continued.

Oh, well isn't that's just swell.

"He gets the worst gifts," she explained. "He'll be insanely jealous."

Quinn smirked and sipped her cold coffee.

"Oh," Rachel said suddenly, standing up. "I have something for you, too."

Quinn frowned.

Rachel disappeared into the living room and Quinn could hear her rustling though her purse. She came back and presented Quinn with another check for $225.

"It's for three more day," she said, holding the check out.

Quinn was already shaking her head.

"Rachel," she said, but Rachel cut her off immediately.

"Yes, I do," she said emphatically. "And I want to. It makes me feel like I'm at least doing something."

Quinn sighed and Rachel wiggled the check at her. Reluctantly she closed her fingers around it.

"Thank you," Rachel told her sounding relieved.

You can give it to me, thought Quinn, but I don't have to cash it.

"Cash it," Rachel said immediately. "I'm serious."

Quinn grunted and Rachel just laughed.

"I'll pay Brittany if you don't," Rachel threatened.

"Alright, alright," Quinn said, rolling her eyes. "Fine."

"Finish your cinnamon roll," she told her, taking her coffee and replacing it with fresh.

**=^..^=**

Quinn walked through the office door and immediately sat down next to Brittany's desk. The pretty girl smiled at her immediately. She was happy to be talking to her again.

"Hi B," she said, her voice conveying how long her day had been.

"You're working too hard," she told her honestly. "You need Puck back."

Quinn sighed heavily and put her head on the desk. Brittany rubbed her back softly.

"He's sorry," she told her. "He didn't mean anything."

"I know," Quinn said, her voice muffled and distance.

"I can get him to come back," Brittany offered.

Quinn sat up and grabbed her hand.

"No, that's okay. I'll do it, B," she said with a fleeting smile. "Where is he?"

"I'm not supposed to say," Brittany said, looking guilty.

"Is he staying with you?" she asked.

Brittany shook her head.

"San wouldn't let him," she admitted. "She's mad at him for you being mad at her."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"So he's at Sam's, right?" Quinn said.

"I'm not supposed to say that," Brittany repeated dutifully.

"Okay," Quinn said, chuckling. "Thanks for not telling me, B."

She squeezed her hand and then walked back into her office and collapsed into her chair. Her intercom buzzed immediately.

"Yeah, B?" she asked.

"Rachel said I'm supposed to tell you to cash her check," Brittany said hesitantly.

Another long exhale.

"Thanks, Brit," Quinn told her, digging into her pocket and pulling out the blue paisley check. She left it on her desk. It was too late to deposit today.

Now Brittany appeared in the doorway.

"I'm going," she told her and Quinn just nodded. "Do you want to come to dinner? San is making her abuela's fiesta chicken."

Brittany knew it was one of Quinn's favorites. Quinn suspected it might be the conciliatory act she'd been waiting for because Santana didn't cook very often. It was more than just a coincidence.

"Sure," she said, smiling. "I'll come with you."

Shocked flashed across Brittany's face and she beamed with delight.

"Let's call Rachel," Brittany suggested eagerly.

"Let's not," Quinn said with the same enthusiasm, frowning at her.

"Okay," Brittany mumbled, clearly disappointed.

"I just want it to be us, okay?" Quinn asked, standing up and gathering her things.

The blonde nodded and threaded her arm through Quinn's. She practically drug her to the front door and into the parking lot.

"I need to stop home first," Quinn told her as she got into the battered truck. "I'll be along in a little while."

"Don't change your mind," Brittany said, clearly reluctant to let Quinn slip out of her sight. "You have to promise."

"I promise, B," she said, smiling. "I'll be there."

**=^..^=**

A little less than an hour later Quinn knocked on the door at Brittany and Santana's and waited nervously. The whole knocking routine was something she normally never did. Santana pulled the door open and it was clear she was caught off guard to see Quinn standing on the porch holding a six-pack of beer and a small white box.

"Hey," she said, drying her hands on a towel. "Sup, Q?"

"Brit said I should come to dinner," Quinn told her, shifting awkwardly.

Santana nodded.

"I brought this," she said, handing Santana the beer and dessert.

"Thanks. I made Fiesta Chicken," she said, nodding. "B knows it's your favorite."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed. "It's really good. Like, last meal kind of good."

Santana ghosted a smile at the compliment.

"Um, you don't ever have to knock," she said quietly, pulling the door back so Quinn could step inside. "I mean, like, ever. Just come in, okay?"

Quinn nodded and gave her a lopsided grin.

"Sure, okay," she said, swallowing hard.

"I mean, it's totes gonna be fucking brutal up in here if I burned up dinner escorting your stupid ass in the house," she blustered. "I've been cooking all afternoon. I'm just sayin'."

Quinn chuckled.

"So why are you still standing here then?" Quinn asked, eyes flashing a smile.

"Trying to be all hospitable and shit," she said, tossing the towel at Quinn and turning back to the kitchen. "Brit, Q's making a nuisance of herself. Find her a drink or a cracker or something so she'll get out of my face."

"You kept your promise," Brittany said, bouncing into the living room.

"Of course," Quinn told her easily, letting her hug on her without fussing.

"I'll get you some iced tea, okay?" Brittany asked.

"Sure, that would be good," Quinn agreed. "Thanks."

"Why don't you go on outside." Brittany suggested. "San thinks it tastes better when you drink it on the deck."

"Okay," Quinn said, laughing quietly.

She cut through the house and stepped out onto the deck. Puck was sitting on top of the picnic table, a beer in hand.

Quinn had suspected as much and rolled her eyes.

"Sup Q," he said lightly, jerking his chin at her.

"Not much," she said, crossing the deck and climbing up to sit next to him. She took the beer out of his hand and took a long sip. "Been kind of busy."

He nodded and smiled.

"Yeah, Brittany mentioned that," he told her. "So maybe I'll come around tomorrow. See if I can't help you out, okay?"

She leaned her shoulder into his.

"That would be great, Noah," she said quietly. "I'd appreciate that."

They sat quietly listening to Brittany and Santana talk in the kitchen.

"So," he said, reaching over and taking his beer away from her. "Have you kissed her yet?"

Quinn closed her eyes and chewed on the corner of her lip.

"No, for my part," she finally admitted. "Kind of want to, maybe. I don't know."

He chuckled.

"I did get a kiss on the cheek today." she added for his amusement.

He scoffed.

"So weak," he said, shaking his head. "I get that from strangers."

"There was a hug, too," she continued. "She damned near choked me out. I seriously had to tap out."

He laughed and looked at her.

"In some circles that would be considered almost sex," he told her, clearly unable to stop grinning at the thought.

"Why did I know that you'd say that?" she asked.

"Seriously," he pressed. "What's a little auto-erotic asphyxiation between good friends."

"Manslaughter," Santana said, walking up behind them. She handed Quinn a tall glass of iced tea. "Why can't you just drink alcohol like the rest of us. Always gotta be strange."

"Someday when you need a kidney or a piece of my liver I'll remind you that you said that," Quinn told her.

"Whatev," Santana remarked dismissively. "So, I hear little Miss Hot Thang scored a sitcom appearance."

Quinn had long stopped wondering how Santana managed to know everything and just accepted it.

"She mentioned something," Quinn said, sipping her tea. "She seemed rather pleased."

"Quinn got a smooch," Puck said and Quinn punched his shoulder. "On the cheek though."

Santana stared at at them.

"Are you through?" she asked.

"Uh, yeah," Quinn said.

" As I was so clearly saying, it'll build a little buzz," Santana continued, shrugging. "Not much, but I suppose it's still something. Heard boyfriend made it happen."

"That seems...unlikely," Quinn said, frowning.

"Yeah, way I hear, he went to Daddy and said, "Hire her or get her hired," and this is the result.

Quinn didn't comment. If true, she wondered if Rachel even knew about it. If not, she hoped she didn't find out. She turned to Santana.

"Listen," she said, seriously. "Are you serious that you make things happen for her or are you just bragging? Be 100% real with me on this. Are you ready for this step? It's a huge step, San. I mean, think about it. That's a lot to bank on someone we've only known for a week."

Santana walked a few feet away from her and looked out over the backyard.

"I'm so ready, Q," she said finally. "I don't want to just write bios and press releases for the rest of my life."

"It's a paycheck, San," Quinn pressed. "I know it's a grind, but it's a paycheck."

"Sometimes that's not enough," Santana said quietly. "You can't always be so careful about everything, Quinn."

Quinn listened quietly and just nodded.

"Rachel's the real thing, " Santana said. "I've got my intel working overtime on this. She's a handful, yeah, but she works hard and has mad skills and she's just right there. I don't know what her people are fucking around for to be honest. It's like they don't know what to do with her."

Quinn grunted. Santana always made things sound so easy, but the honest truth was that she was right a lot more than she was wrong.

"Anyway, on go much more important matters," Santana said loudly, clapping her hands. "Dinner's ready. But if you think I'm serving y'all, think again. Get your asses up and fix your own plates. Go, move... now!"

Puck hustled himself up and then pulled Quinn to her feet and he needled her in the ribs all the way into the kitchen as they trailed along after Santana.

**=^..^=**

"Sorry I'm late," Kurt blustered as he dropped his things into the booth. Rachel stood up and they air-kissed cheeks with practiced ease. He slid into the booth opposite her.

"You're always late," Rachel said with a shrug, staring at the menu.

He huffed indignantly.

"Not always," he protested "Only occasionally. Besides, all the better to make an entrance."

He made a simpering face at her and she laughed.

"So true," she agreed.

"So how is Bland, er, Blaine.?" she inquired, quickly corrected herself.

Bad Quinn.

Kurt flustered and frowned at her.

"Blaine," he said emphatically. "Is just fine. In fact, he's up for several projects. I expect he'll get them all and then have his choice."

"Wonderful," she said, forcing a smile. "I'm so happy for him."

"And I hear congratulations are in order for you, Missy," he sassed.

"Yes," she squealed bouncing in her seat, unable to contain her excitement. "It's only one episode, I know, and I'm not getting my hopes up. But, yay, right?"

"Most definitely yay," he insisted. "Way, way yay. Flaming yay even."

They wiggled their fingers together in the middle of the table and then both giggled like schoolgirls.

The waiter appeared and they gave their order. Kurt flirted with him shamelessly.

"Bad," Rachel scolded when he left.

"Oh stop it," Kurt said dismissively. "It's harmless, witty banter. One can't resist. Especially when one is presented with... that."

He made goo-goo eyes at the waiter who smiled at him from across the room.

Rachel scoffed and shook her head.

"Oh you're one to talk," he said, quirking an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?" Rachel blustered indignantly.

"Play coy all you wish," Kurt chided. "But I hear you're sharing your mornings with a certain blonde, attractive someone now."

Rachel fish-mouthed dramatically.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. "I'm just having breakfast with a friend."

"Mmm hmm," Kurt hummed, his lips pursed.

"Really, it's nothing," she said unconvincingly. "I mean, I'm just being polite."

The waiter brought their drinks and their appetizers and Rachel thanked him.

"That was being polite," Kurt pointed out. "Asking him to sit down and filling him full of pastry on the patio every morning – not just being polite."

Rachel scoffed.

"It's a friend," she said emphatically. "A female friend. That's all."

"Don't you toss gender labels at me, Miss Rachel Berry, " he snapped. "I know you well enough to know that doesn't mean anything."

She narrowed her eyes at him and then rolled them hard.

"It's all very innocent, " she insisted firmly "She's... interesting. And sweet, though she would die before she'd ever admit it. And she's the only one who understands about Mr. Arnstein."

"Oh God," Kurt muttered dramatically. "That cat again."

"You probably don't care," she said sullenly. "And Finn obviously doesn't care. At least Quinn knows how hard it's been for me."

"Rachel," Kurt said, sympathetically. "That's not what I meant."

"Besides, Finn knows all about it," she said as if that made up for everything. She hated that it sounded like she needed his permission. That was something she was feeling more and more unhappy about lately even before the whole situation with Quinn.

"Well, he may know about," Kurt commented, digging into the steamy artichoke dip. "But that doesn't mean he has to like it."

Kurt already knew for a fact that Finn was not at all happy about Rachel's new acquaintance. He'd already been to Kurt to ask his advice how to deal with the growing friendship. Suspecting it was just a waste of effort, Kurt told him to play it cool. Clearly Finn had his own ideas.

Rachel shrugged.

"Honestly," Rachel admitted. "He can just be so... draining sometimes. I mean, you know Finn. He just never seems to... grow. Now he's just being all clingy and controlling, too."

They both paused and then laughed at the absurd notion of anyone controlling Rachel.

"Well, as much as he can be," she corrected.

Kurt sighed. It hurt him to see Rachel look so resigned. Personally, he never understood what she saw in Finn Hudson. Despite what people might think, she wasn't using the simple boy for his family connections. Not once since he'd known Finn had he ever seriously lifted a finger to further Rachel's career. If anything, he was probably something of an albatross. She took more than her fair share of scorn from jealous colleagues over her relationship with him.

Not only that, the boy had a history of leaving her on a whim if something else caught his fancy, a habit Kurt never forgave him for indulging. He and Rachel didn't speak for weeks after Rachel took Finn back the last time and he didn't hesitate to take any opening he was given to discourage their relationship.

"Rachel," he said, taking her hand. "If you really feel that way maybe you should think about telling him. You know, maybe it really is time for you to move on from this relationship for good. It pains me to say it, but I think you deserve so much better. "

She smiled and squeezed his fingers almost to the point of pain.

"We both know it doesn't pain you," she said smiling. "Not even in the slightest."

He laughed awkwardly.

"This dip is so good," she said, hoping to change the subject.

Kurt nodded and sighed, letting her. He was just glad to have the circulation back in his fingers.

"I know, right," he chirped back.

**=^..^=**

**Day Seven**

*Check traps  
>*Rachel<br>*Network neighborhood again  
>*Stake out dumpster<p>

Quinn stepped out of the truck and closed the door. She turned only to bump squarely into a mountain of Finn. How did something so large manage to sneak up on her like that?

"Goddamn it," she blustered as she bounced off him. "The next time you do that I'm going to punch you, for real. Fair warning."

"You said you'd take me," he whined, frowning.

She scoffed angrily and pushed him roughly out of her way.

"I didn't either," she told him. "The agreement was if YOU paid then you could go with me. You didn't pay, Rachel did. But hey, I'll take Rachel with me if she wants. She can tell you about it."

She smirked at the thought.

"I want to go," he whined. "I still want to see what you do."

"Why?" she asked, staring hard at him. "What do you care? Trust me, I'm not stealing from Rachel."

"Prove it then," he insisted.

They glared at each other.

"If I take you with me, you better fucking listen to everything I say," she said sharply. "If you don't, I swear, I'll dump you out on the side of the road and you can walk home."

"Rachel won't like it, " he said smartly.

"'Rachel won't like it.'" she mimicked snottily. "Really? That's what you're gonna go with?"

"She won't," he repeated. "She'll get mad and fire you."

Quinn smiled.

"Rachel won't fire me," she said with complete conviction. "Trust me on that."

"You don't know that," he insisted.

"Get in the damn truck before I change my mind," she snapped.

He climbed in the cab, a smug expression on his face. She exhaled deeply and vowed to keep her cool no matter what.

The first trap was the one behind the dumpster. She pointed and looked at him.

"So, let's go check it," she said.

He stared at her blankly.

"I can't get back there," he fussed, a sour look on his face.

"Go along the side," she suggested helpfully. "It's a tight squeeze, but you're fluffy."

She shoved the chicken bait box at him and scooted in along the wall. She could hear him huffing and grunting behind her. If his fat ass got wedged in she'd have to climb over the wall to get out.

"Shit," she swore loudly, seeing the bait gone and the trap empty... again. It had to be something small. There were tufts of fur on the trap, but it didn't help her any.

Finn finally appeared, red in the face and winded. He was panting large gulps of air. She pulled the chicken out of his hands and found a leg. She tied it to the same spot and pushed the trap back, then re-set the drop floor.

"Why is it empty," he wheezed.

"Whatever took the food didn't trip it," she told him, annoyed. "Too small or too smart. Or both."

She started looking for places to position a trail cam. As a rule, they didn't use them very often – especially in urban settings. They only had three and they were expensive to replace if damaged or stolen. In this case, she would make an exception.

"What are you doing?" he asked, clearly bored.

"Looking to see where I can mount a camera," she told him.

"Why didn't you just do that in the first place," he asked.

She rounded on him and got in his face.

"Do I come where you work and tell you how to do your job?" she asked, her tone serious.

"No," he answered sheepishly.

"Then keep your comments to yourself," she said. "A camera won't catch anything – just tell me what is coming around."

She pulled out her phone and sent a text to Puck asking him to follow up with a camera for her when he got the time.

"Okay, next trap," she told him, pushing by him.

He grunted.

If nothing else, she'd run him ragged today so he wouldn't ask to go again.

They worked two more traps, including the one in Rachel's backyard. Rachel was nowhere to be seen. It was early and Quinn guessed she was probably sleeping. Hopefully she'd stay that way until they could get done and out of there.

They pulled around to the tree-line road behind her complex and parked on the roadside. She had repositioned the trap yesterday and was hoping Sweetie wasn't very ambitious and hadn't found it again. As they walked up, she could hear rustling and faint whistling noises coming from the thicket where she hid the trap.

Approaching slowly, she peered into the brush and could tell there was something in the trap. She knew right off it wasn't Sweetie by the fur – he wasn't black. Whatever was in the trap had some black fur.

Please, please, please, she thought.

She slipped on gloves and reached into the thicket, pulling the trap carefully forward. There was definitely chittering, and some odd warbling that was vaguely cat-like. The more she pulled, there was some light hissing. She got it clear from the shadows where she could finally get a decent look and then she scrambled back immediately.

"Oh hell," she muttered.

Finn lumbered into the clearing, finally catching up.

"Whazz the matter," he huffed, folding over to put his hands on his his knees.

"Skunk," she said.

"What?" he asked dimly, looking up with the glazed expression she'd seen several times coming over his face.

"A skunk," she repeated. "As in there is a skunk in that trap."

She motioned to the trap sitting several feet away.

"Why?" he asked.

She smacked her palm to her forehead in a mixture of disgust and frustration.

"Are you really as d..." she started and then she caught herself and bit her lip. "Because they're curious and hungry I suppose."

"What do we do?" he asked.

"WE don't do anything. YOU stay the hell out of my way," she told him. "I'm going to try and let it out. Hopefully if it's not too mad, it'll just go on its merry way."

She worked in the bramble and found a sturdy stick about three feet long and then approached the trap cautiously, not sure which way the skunk was pointing. Usually they'd stomp before spraying, but with Finn huffing so loudly she wasn't even sure she'd hear it.

Unlike with the other traps, she'd left the door on this one unsecured for just this reason. All she had to do was pull it straight up and it would lift out and the back of the trap would be open. She wedged the stick into the handle and gently pulled up. The back of the trap lifted slightly and she heard scurrying and then excitedly warbling and then steady hissing. She waited until the hissing stopped and then tried again. This time the door raised slowly. She kept steady pressure and slid the wire door up and finally pulled it out and then backed several feet away.

She saw the skunk poke its face out and sniff several times. It had to know they were there, but as a rule, skunks weren't particularly aggressive. Unless, of course, it was rabid and then all bets were off. Slowly, the little spotted skunk inched its way out of the trap.

"Go, go, go," Quinn muttered quietly under her breath, encouraging it to disappear into the bramble.

It took a few tentative steps in that direction.

"Hyah!" Finn bellowed suddenly and Quinn about came right out of her skin."Get, get, get out of here!"

"Jesus Christ," Quinn blustered, stumbling backwards and landing hard on her butt.

Finn rushed at the skunk, screaming like a lunatic and stomping his foot at it.

"Complete fucking moron," Quinn muttered, dragging herself to her feet.

Instead of scurrying away, the skunk made a run at him and Finn screamed like a girl, kicking at it.

"Don't," Quinn shouted, but it was too late. The skunk had quite simply had enough. It waddled a few feet away, turned tail and promptly blasted Finn. It was a direct hit, check dead-center on his upper chest.

He made a noise that was something between a bleating goat and a strangling rhinoceros and just stood flailing, reeking and rubbing at his eyes.

Satisfied the threat was sufficiently neutralized, the skunk waddled off into the brush.

"Don't rub" Quinn said, coughing and choking. "That only makes it worse."

He ignored her, whimpering loudly, and clawing at his red eyes.

"You did that on purpose," he brayed, tears streaming down his face. He probably wasn't crying, it was just a reaction to the chemicals. Okay, she was giving him the benefit of the doubt, because it really looked like he might be crying.

"Oh right," she said sarcastically, shaking her head. "I snuck up here, caught a wild, potentially rabid, skunk and then stuffed the damned thing into a cat trap – all without getting squirted or bitten. For real, I am just that fucking awesome. All in hopes you would find it and then be dumb enough to not listen to a thing I said and get blasted."

"See, that's what I said," he blustered, retching with dry heaves.

"Oh my god," she said, literally shaking with fury. "You are unbelievable."

She pulled out her cellphone and dialed Rachel's number.

"Hey," Rachel answered blissfully unaware and still happy. "It's so early. Where are you? What's up?"

"Rachel, sweetie, I'm about to ruin your day," Quinn said, speaking without thinking first.

Rachel burst into tears.

"Wha...?" Quinn sputtered.

"He's dead," she wailed miserably. "Oh my god, I knew it. He's d..d..d...dead."

Sonofabitch.

"No, no, no, no, "Quinn said loudly, trying to be heard over Rachel's staccato sobs. "Rachel, Rachel, listen to me. It's not about the cat. It's not about the cat!"

Rachel sniffled and whimpered.

"What is it about?" she asked tearfully. "Why are you ruining my day? I don't want that. I have an audition and I need to prepare. I just want you to...I don't want my day ruined."

"It's Floyd," she said. "I'm sorry, but he..."

Moron. She wanted to kick him but he was just too pitiful.

"I don't understand. Oh my god, you didn't kill him, did you?" Rachel asked in a harsh whisper.

"God, Rachel, no, " Quinn said, laughing.

Finn groaned loudly and then barfed all down the front of himself onto his shoes.

"Oh perfect," Quinn muttered, moving even further away from him.

Now Quinn was pretty sure he really was crying.

"Oh my god, is that him?" Rachel asked frantically.

"Um, yeah, yeah," Quinn admitted, feeling remotely guilty. "That's him."

"Quinn, what have you done?" Rachel asked, scolding her.

"I didn't do it, Rachel," Quinn protested. "He did it. He got skunked."

"What does that mean?" Rachel asked, confused. "Exactly?"

"It means he made me take him with me this morning and got his idiot self blasted by a freaking skunk and now he stinks to high heaven." Quinn said, trying not to laugh. "He's whining and moaning like a cow and he just puked all over himself. If he comes near me, I may puke all over him, too."

"What do we do?" Rachel asked.

Quinn could tell she was wringing her hands and marching up and down.

"We? We, my ass. Ixnay, on that we shit," Quinn said, shaking her head. "This is your boyfriend. Like I said, I'm ruining your day, not mine. I'm going to wrangle him into the back of the truck and run him up and down the highway a few times and air him out. In the meanwhile, get yourself a face mask, some rubber gloves and about 5 bottles of Skunk Off. When I bring him home, I'd advise that you hose him down in the garage and have at it with a scrub brush, angel. Then maybe he'll be good to get in the shower in the house."

Out of everything Quinn said the only thing Rachel heard was: Blah, blah, blah, blah, angel, blah, blah, blah.

"Rachel, did you hear what I said?" Quinn asked, rolling her eyes. "Go buy that stuff. Right now. "

"Where?" she asked, whimpering.

"Try a vet or a pet store," Quinn said. "They probably have it. Tell them he's a big guy and see how much they recommend. Call me when you get it, okay?"

"Okay," she said, sounding completely overwhelmed.

Quinn dropped her phone into her pocket. Finn was now sitting on the ground and looked up at her miserably. Quinn gagged when she got too close to him and backed off.

"Holy hell, you reek. Okay Mensa, start peeling those clothes off," Quinn told him, holding her hand over her face. "Down to sock and shorts. Now!"

He started bleating some nonsense in protest, but she waved him off.

"It's no fucking picnic for me either." she assured him. "Hurry up."

Once he shed his clothes, she had him roll them up in a ball and marched him, downwind, back to the truck. She got in the cargo bin and found a garbage back and had him dump his clothes inside. They were probably all toast, but she thought they might be able to salvage his high-dollar kicks.

"Dump your wallet and phone in there, too," she told him.

She found him an old beach towel to sit on and watched while he fumbled into the back of the truck.

"Just sit there and try not to barf or fall out, " she told him.

"I'm cold," he whined and she found him another towel to wrap around himself. They didn't have far to go, surely he'd survive that long. She put the truck in gear and rolled out street and drove onto the highway. She ran up and down about two miles in either direction while he sat in the back wrapped in a beach towel, looking like some neon-striped Buddha until Rachel called. Then she drove straight to Rachel's and backed up the driveway.

Rachel was decked out from head-to-toe in plastic. She had a shower cap on her head, an allergy mask covering all but her eyes, rubber gloves and she had crafted herself a shirt and pants out of garbage bags. She was armed with several squirt bottles. Quinn found it beyond adorable.

There was a plastic baby pool in the middle of the garage floor already filled with soapy water.

The whole thing looked like some weird kink fetish fantasy that Quinn didn't want to even think about... EVER.

"Okay, Fragrant," she told Finn, dropping the tailgate. "Get yourself out of there without falling on your fat head."

He stumbled out, stiff-legged, and whined his way toward Rachel, his tighty-whities now sagging like a bad diaper. She held him off at arm's length.

"Here ya go, princess," she told Rachel, grimacing.

Quinn walked over and plucked a squirt bottle out of Rachel's arsenal.

"Is this Rid-A-Fink?" she asked and Rachel nodded. She could tell she was smiling by her eyes and winked at her.

Quinn sprayed down the bed of the truck while Rachel shoved Finn into the baby pool. She made him sit in the sudsy water while she scrubbed him with a long-handled brush, taking care to keep well away from him. Finn was whimpering loudly.

"Um, I'd go easy on that brush," Quinn suggested. "You're peeling off layers of...skin."

"Oh," Rachel said frowning, noticing how red he was getting.

Finn just sat mewling.

"Alright, girlfriend," Quinn said, handing Rachel back the spray bottle. "Looks like you've got it under control. I'm gonna take off. So long, boyfriend."

He ignored her. She just laughed and then pulled out her cellphone.

"Hey Fizz," she called.

He turned to look at her and Quinn snapped several quick photos, giggling. She walked down to the driver's side and opened the door. She climbed inside just as Rachel came scurrying down after her. Quinn smiled again at her in her little get-up. Impulsively, she reached up and tucked a stay lock of hair back up under the shower cap.

"Thank you," Rachel said, her voice muffled behind her mask. "For not just leaving him out there. Or, you know, killing him."

She whispered that last part.

"You're welcome," Quinn said.

"I'm sorry we're going to miss breakfast," Rachel confessed, her sad eyes looming above the face mask.

Quinn wanted to reach over and tug the mask down so she could see her face, but talked herself out of it.

"Me, too," she told her. "Tomorrow maybe."

Rachel nodded vigorously.

"Oh, I had dinner last night with Santana and Brittany, " Quinn said and Rachel's eyes went wide and then crinkled in the corners as she smiled.

"And Puck," Quinn added.

"I'm so glad," Rachel said, reaching across to touch her on the arm. "I'm sure they were missing you as well."

Quinn shrugged.

"Rachel," Finn whined from the garage. "Come help me."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"I'll be right there," she said. There was no mistaking the annoyance in her tone. "I guess I'm needed."

Quinn nodded.

"So it would seem, " she said.

Rachel sighed sadly and Quinn felt guilty for just dumping him on Rachel in this state. She should have just refused to take him.

"Don't blame yourself," Rachel said and Quinn looked at her, brows knit.

How did she?

"I can see the wheels turning," Rachel said by way of explanation. "Besides, he makes most of his own problems."

"I kind of got that," Quinn admitted. "Still... I shouldn't have..."

"Rachel!" he wailed loudly. "Now!"

"Hey," Quinn snapped, but Rachel just held up her hand.

"It's okay," she said.

"It's not," Quinn insisted, sneering in Finn's direction. "He's... I'm...it's...fuck."

She growled in frustration and bit her tongue.

Now they both just sighed and Rachel looked miserable.

Quinn leaned around her and looked at Finn. He was still sitting in the baby pool and had shampoo in his hair. It was dribbling down his face into his eyes. Quinn smirked at the sight.

"Rachel," she said quietly. "Come here."

Rachel leaned in closer.

"I don't want your entire day to be ruined," she told her softly. "So maybe this..."

Quinn planted a quick, soft kiss through the face mask where she thought her mouth would be and she heard Rachel gasp quietly.

"For luck," Quinn told her, quirking her eyebrow. "For your audition today."

"Right," Rachel said, dazed. "Oh, oh my god. Oh my god, I have to get ready. It's...I'm not... oh my god.

"Rachel, Rachel," Quinn said sharply. "Calm down, calm...down. It will all be fine. Just...be...calm."

"You could stay," Rachel suggested hopefully, looking at her with pleading eyes.

Quinn glanced in Finn's direction and just shook her head.

"I can't," she said. "I have to get out of here before he stands up in those wet saggy drawers and subjects me to the horror of the full Monty."

She was just trying to make Rachel laugh and it worked.

"But seriously, you'll be fine," Quinn told her. "It's only a little skunk. The worst of it is over; he can deal with it now. Just put him in the shower and just go be amazing. "

"I can be amazing," Rachel repeated.

"You are amazing," Quinn insisted. "Just let them see that."

Quinn looked at her for a long moment, then pulled the door closed.

"Bye, chickadee," she said.

Rachel watched as she backed down the driveway and then, with a wave, she drove off.

Quinn glanced in the rear-view mirror and saw that Rachel was still standing there, watching.

Rachel stared after Quinn until she was no longer in sight and then turned back to the whining train wreck that awaited her in the garage. She walked over and stared at Finn, one hand on her hip. He peered up at her with one eye squinted shut and still full of soap.

"She made me..." he whimpered, but Rachel cut him off with a wave of her hand and withering glare.

"Just, don't, " she hissed. She handed him the squirt bottle of Skunk Off. "Deal with it. Rinse yourself off, then go in and shower until that smell is gone. And leave the bathroom the same way you found it."

"Aren't you going to help me? " he asked pathetically.

"Sorry," she told him. "I have to go be amazing."

With that she spun on her heel and disappeared into the house leaving a soapy, stinking, confused and entirely unhappy Finn staring after her.

**=^..^=**


	7. Chapter 7: Off the Clock

A/N: Here's another go with this one. They keep getting longer it seems. Thank you so much for all the kind words. I'm really pleased that so many of you are enjoying this as much as I am. It's a fun little tale (or perhaps, tail?) to tell.

Chapter 7  
>Off the Clock<p>

Quinn was getting really tired of re-baiting empty cat traps. This one was getting bent and the door wouldn't go back into the slot. She smacked the side of the trap loudly.

"Fuck it," she hissed. "Come on."

"Hello Quinn," Rachel said, peering down at her from the patio.

"Hello Rachel," Quinn said, looking up at her. "I didn't think you'd be here."

"I'm here," Rachel said quietly.

"I can see that," Quinn quipped, frowning.

Rachel was clearly not herself tonight.

"You wanna tell me about it?" Quinn asked randomly.

Rachel exhaled and shrugged.

"I guess I just wasn't very amazing," she said softly.

"You didn't get the part?" Quinn asked.

"I didn't get the part," she confirmed. "Not the 'right type' they said. I get that a lot."

Quinn frowned.

"I'm sorry," she told her.

"Thanks," Rachel answered glumly.

"I guess it wasn't very lucky," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel smiled.

So maybe next time we need to try it without the mask, the little brunette thought to herself. I'll need to suggest that when the time is right.

She smiled to herself and Quinn narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously.

"Well, they're clearly insane," Quinn observed slowly with a shrug, wondering what Rachel's sudden mischievous smile was all about. "Anyone with an ounce of sanity can see that you're the perfect type."

Rachel grinned and ducked her head shyly.

"Thank you," she said. "For saying that."

"Truth," Quinn said, with a dismissive wave. "Can't fight it."

Quinn slid the door back on the trap and nudged it back under the hedgerow with her foot.

"Aren't you gonna crawl around like you usually do?" Rachel asked.

"Um, maybe not today," Quinn said evasively. "Why do you ask."

"I dunno," Rachel said, pursing her lips in a light pout.

"Cause maybe you like staring at my butt when I do that?" Quinn wondered to herself.

"So are you leaving now?" Rachel asked, frowning.

"Actually, yeah," Quinn answered. "I guess the gnat-pack is gathering as we speak. I've been summonsed."

"Oh," Rachel said, her voice small and distant.

Quinn was momentarily pensive, scuffing her foot in the soft dirt.

"You know," she said slowly, as if still uncertain with her decision. "If you aren't busy and all, I thought maybe you might like to come over?"

Rachel's head snapped up instantly and Quinn could feel the energy coming off of her.

"Really?" she asked, her eyes visibly brighter even from where Quinn stood.

"Yeah," Quinn said, nodding. "Santana is cooking though, at least last I heard. She's a bit fixated on that at the moment for some reason. She's good though. I mean, it's usually better than merely edible."

"Yes! I mean, okay, I'd like that," Rachel said, trying not to sound overly desperate. She really didn't want to be alone tonight and, quite honestly, Finn was the last company she wanted.

"Great," Quinn said, smiling nervously.

She originally had zero intention of inviting Rachel to come eat with them, but she was desperate for something to cheer her up. It was either take her home or stay here with her. Here seemed infinitely more...dangerous. At least her house was full of people. Crazy, annoying people, but still people. She could spend time with Rachel and not _worry_ about spending time with Rachel.

"Are you ready?" Rachel asked.

"Whenever you are, " Quinn told her.

"I can be ready," she said, shifting into hyper-Rachel mode. "I... it won't be long. I'll hurry."

She disappeared from view quickly.

"You don't have to hurry," Quinn called after her.

Rachel reappeared suddenly, talking excitedly.

"What should I wear? " she asked, clearly over-thinking this whole thing already.

"Rachel, look at me," she said.

"Okay," she said, taking deep breaths, calming herself. "I know, calm down."

"No, I mean, look at me," Quinn said, chuckling. "At what I'm wearing. This is how I'm dressing for dinner. I might change into a clean shirt, but that's pretty much it. Very casual. Just a step above pajamas."

Quinn started to say "underwear" but then decided against it.

Rachel laughed.

"I can do that," she told her. "I can do... cool."

She dashed away again.

"Rachel!" Quinn called out after her.

"Yeah," she said, running back.

"Calm down," Quinn told her with a smirk.

Rachel just narrowed her eyes at her and disappeared again.

"That's okay," Quinn muttered to herself. "I'll just wait here in the yard like the gardener."

She fished her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed the house and Santana answered.

"Where the hell are you?" she snapped. "I need groceries. What have you been eating – cat food?"

"Noah food shops, " she offered. It was a weak excuse.

"Apparently," she answered. "There's like bare cupboards and kibble. It's kind of pitiful."

"I'm just leaving," Quinn told her. "It'll be about... I don't know... 30 minutes."

Santana huffed unhappily.

"What do you need?" Quinn asked unenthusiastically. "I suppose I can stop on the way."

"I'll text you a list," Santana answered, already type into her tablet.

"Okay," Quinn said. "Oh, you'll need to set another place, too."

"Um, because why?" Santana asked suspiciously.

"Because I'm bringing a friend," Quinn said, already gritting her teeth.

"My, my," Santana said and Quinn could actually hear the smirk on her face. "I wonder who on earth it might be. Hmmmm, let's all think about it a moment, shall we?"

Quinn growled.

"Alright, fine," Santana relented. "I'm not gonna yank your chain too hard seeing how you're all sensitive and shit about it. Bring your pretty little thespian."

"How gracious of you," Quinn said wryly. "Seeing how it's my house and everything."

Santana laughed.

"Oh yeah," she said. "I guess it is, isn't it."

"I guess I can see how you'd forget that," Quinn remarked smiling. "Seeing how you spend most of your free time hanging out there."

"It's just so warm and welcoming, " Santana teased. "And you have all the good smutty, cable channels."

Quinn snorted.

"It's the little things that matter," she said.

"I'm texting you that shopping list," Santana told her. "right...now."

Quinn's phone chirped.

"Got it," she said without even looking.

"The sooner we get that, the sooner y'all will get to be eating," Santana said. "Tick tock, dollface."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"We'll hurry," Quinn told her.

"Uh huh, sure you will," she said and hung up.

Quinn dropped her phone into her pocket and brushed her hands, then walked around the path to the front porch. She tried the door and it was unlocked.

"Damn it, Rachel," she hissed under her breath. "Rachel?"

"Yes, Quinn?" she called from somewhere in the second story.

"Stop leaving your damned door unlocked!" Quinn insisted.

"But it's just you," she protested, missing the point entirely.

"Just let me knock,"Quinn said.

"I'll just give you a key, " Rachel countered.

OMG, what?

"I don't need a..." Quinn stopped, already seeing the it was pointless.

"What?" Rachel asked.

"Nevermind," Quinn said, fingering through magazines on the kitchen table.

"What?" Rachel asked again.

"Nothing," Quinn yelled at the stairs.

"No need to yell," Rachel said, walking up behind her, smiling. "Is this alright?"

Rachel was wearing jeans, a plaid camp shirt and tennis shoes. She had her hair down and it had clearly gone back to natural waves. Quinn decided Rachel did casual very well.

"Perfect," she told her.

"I guess I'm ready," she said. "But I want to bring something. I don't want to just show up empty-handed."

"Well, that's good because I've been informed we have to shop." she said, grimacing. "I've been given a list of essentials."

She wiggled her cellphone by way of proof.

"I like to shop," Rachel said quickly.

Not too much of surprise confession, Quinn thought.

"Yeah, okay," Quinn said. "Well, me, not so much. Especially not after working all day."

"Alright then," Rachel said. "May I?"

She held out her hand and looked pointedly at Quinn's phone. The list, she wanted to see the list. Quinn placed the phone in her upturned palm. Rachel quickly scanned the dozen or so items on the list, mapping out their strategy.

"Okay, this is the plan. If you navigate, I'll do all the running," she suggested reasonably. "We'll breeze right through in no time."

"Aye, aye, Captain," Quinn said obediently.

Rachel smiled and wrapped her fingers around Quinn's wrist and tugged her toward the door.

"Come, Smee," she told her.

"The ice is melting, the sun is out and the flowers are all in bloom," Quinn answered.

Rachel laughed loudly.

After fighting through rush-hour traffic, Rachel hit the ground running, making up for lost time, by marching Quinn through the crowded grocery store. She liked being in charge almost as much as she liked shopping.

For her part, Quinn leaned on the shopping cart and followed the adorable little taskmaster up and down the aisles like a rat in Hamelin, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times and making an occasional snarky comment. Quinn noticed Rachel taking her arm more and more often and gently touching her waist or the small of her back whenever people needed to move past them. Thanks largely to Rachel they were breezing through the checkout before the real post-work shopping crowd hit the doors.

Another twenty minutes of hard-core combat driving and Quinn turned up the familiar driveway, pulling in behind Santana's car. They unloaded their bags and Quinn led Rachel into the house through the garage entrance.

"Hey," Quinn said, nodding to Santana, who was already bustling around the kitchen. Rachel stood quietly behind her, smiling shyly.

"God, finally," Santana groused, moving immediately to take Quinn's bags. She started unpacking items onto whatever clear counter space she could find. Rachel carried hers over and waited patiently until Santana took them as well.

"Oh, thank you," Santana said, flashing her a big smile. "You're a doll."

"You're welcome," Rachel answered. "Thank you for inviting me."

"Not a problem, but sorry to say I can't take the credit," Santana told her. "That's all on Quinn."

Quinn rolled her eyes and Rachel bit her lip. Quinn stared at Rachel and Santana stared at Quinn, both thinking this evening certainly had all the makings of a massive train wreck.

"Are you good here for a minute?" Quinn asked Rachel after finally snapping out of her fugue. "I'm going to go freshen up a little."

Rachel nodded.

"I'll be just fine," she assured her.

Quinn glared hard at Santana and then disappeared down the hallway.

"Can I help you with anything?" Rachel inquired, looking around and feeling helpless. She rubbed her hands together and rocked back and forth on her heels.

"No," she said quickly. "I'm covered, but thanks."

"Sure, "Rachel said quietly, feeling awkward and looking down the hall after Quinn.

"She'll be right back," Santana said with a quick wink and Rachel felt herself blush.

"Brittany?" Santana said loudly. "Can you come in here, please?"

"What baby?" Brittany asked, poking her head in from the patio door. "Oh, Rachel, yay. Hi!"

The lithe blonde bounded into the kitchen and scooped a pleasantly startled Rachel up into a Brittany hug. Everyone got them and it was useless to resist.

"I"m so glad you came," she gushed, lifting Rachel easily off her feet.

"Thank you," Rachel said, laughing. "I'm happy to see you as well."

"Come on," she said enthusiastically, taking Rachel by the hand. "Come see everyone." She pulled her through the living room and out onto the patio.

"Look who I found, Puck," she said brightly.

"Hello Noah," Rachel said, hugging him lightly.

"Hey yourself, " he replied, smirking.

"This is Sam," Brittany told her, introducing the tall, blonde, beachy-looking young man sitting next to Noah. "He's a musician. Sam, this is Rachel Berry. She's with Quinn."

Noah choked on his beer.

"Hello Rachel," Sam said politely, taking her hand in his firmly. "Nice to meet you. "

"Hi Sam," she said, returning his smile.

"Hey," Quinn said, stepping out onto the deck. "We don't allow your kind here,"

Sam smiled at her.

"Hi Quinn," he said quietly. "And what kind is that? Broke musicians? Blondes who do bad impersonations?"

"Oh hell no," she said. "We get all those. I mean the kind that call everybody 'dude' and say 'please' and 'thank you.' All that polite sort of stuff. We'll have none of that civility here, thank you very much."

"For reals," Santana said, handing Quinn a glass of iced tea. "Rachel, are you weird like Quinn or would you actually like a real drink?"

"I think I'll be weird, too," she said. "If that's okay?"

"Eh, suit yourself," Santana scoffed. She promptly yanked the glass out of Quinn's hand and handed it to Rachel. "Guests first."

"What about you, Dennis the Menace?" she said, looking pointedly at Sam. "You need anything?"

"No, thank you, ma'..." he said and Santana cut him off.

"First time you slip and call me 'ma'am,' there's gonna be bloodshed up in here." she told him. He chuckled nervously and watched Santana retreat. He made sure Quinn was out of earshot as well.

"Dude," he said, leaning in close where Puck could hear him. "Your women scare the hell out of me."

"Yeah, it takes a pretty firm hand to keep 'em in line," he said, nodding and waggling his brows. "I got it covered. Ya feel me?"

They both chuckled knowingly and bumped fists.

Overhearing the conversation, Rachel just smirked and sipped her tea.

From almost the moment she arrived, wherever Rachel was, Sam was there, too. If Rachel went inside, Sam went inside. If Rachel was in the kitchen, Sam was in the kitchen. He was like a shaggy, clumsy puppy following her everywhere. Whenever Quinn sat with her, Sam sat on the other side, listening earnestly to their conversation, staring adoringly at Rachel.

Quinn wanted to whack him on the head with a rolled-up newspaper.

When he launched into some long-winded story about his latest recording session Quinn couldn't even pretend to be interested. She got up and stomped into the kitchen where she planted herself against the counter, arms folded across her chest, glaring into the living room.

Santana looked her up and down and smirked.

"You're looking a little Christmassy up in here tonight," she said.

Quinn sneered and glanced over at her.

"What in the fuck does that mean?" she asked testily.

"A little bit red and a little bit green," Santana explained.

"She means mad and jealous," Brittany explained helpfully.

Santana smiled at her and patted her on the arm.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said. "That's exactly what I mean."

"B, cover your ears a minute, darling," Quinn said and Brittany put her hands over both ears. She nodded and Quinn smiled.

"Shut the fuck up," Quinn snapped at Santana, then waved at Brit to take her hands off.

Santana chuckled.

"Did you invite him," she asked scowling in Sam's general direction.

"The human puffer fish? Uh, that would be, no," Santana said. "You can thank HR Fuck-n-Puck for that."

"I like Sam," Brittany said quietly. "He's nice."

"We like Sam, too, honey, " Santana said. "But not when he's macking on she-who-isn't-Quinn's girlfriend."

Quinn grunted and Brittany nodded. Santana handed her a peeled carrot which she took with a happy smile.

"So do something about it," Santana prompted easily. "Mind you nothing that we'll have to visit you on Sundays for the next 7-15 for doing, but something."

"She means don't kill him," Brittany added. "I'm getting good at this."

Quinn actually managed to smile at her.

Puck wandered into the kitchen looking for more beer and hoping to swipe something off the counter. He grabbed a handful of sliced vegetables and Santana rounded on him, holding her paring knife like she meant serious business.

"Touch my vegetables again with your grubby hands and I'll totes cut a bitch," she told him. He just rolled his eyes and crunched on a stalk of celery.

"Like everybody else hasn't touched your vegetables," he said.

Rachel and Sam walked into the kitchen.

"Why's everybody hanging out in here?" Sam asked amiably.

"Because I'm in here," Santana said smugly. "Obviously. I'm the feature attraction in this evening's production."

"I thought it was Rachel," Sam said with a shy smile.

"Awe," Rachel cooed and patted him on the arm. "Aren't you the sweetest thing."

Santana gagged. Brit laughed. Puck groaned. Quinn fumed.

Santana and Brittany both looked over at Quinn, who's ears went dark red and her eyes bright, hot green. She was in full-on death glare mode locked onto Sam, who was oblivious to his peril.

"Dude," Puck said, chuckling and pointing at Quinn. "You look like you're wearing red earmuffs."

"Nice knowing you, dumbass," Santana muttered under her breath.

"Excuse us, please," Quinn said, smiling through clenched teeth. She grabbed Puck up under his arm and toe-marched him out of the room into her bedroom with him wincing and chanting "ow, ow, ow" under his breath the whole way.

"Goddamn it, Q, " he said when she turned him loose and shoved him out in front of her, shutting the door. "What the hell?"

She clenched her fists in frustration and Puck watch warily, shrinking away in self-preservation. She was really, really hot about something. He had a vague idea what the problem was, but wasn't about to admit it because it indirectly involved him.

"What did you bring him for?" she hissed finally.

"Who?" Puck asked innocently, shrugging.

"Really?" she hissed menacingly, her eyes cold steel. Quinn squared herself up and drew a fist back. She wasn't in the mood for stupid.

"What? Wait," Puck sputtered, back-pedaling into the bed. He fell down onto the mattress narrowly missing Mojo, who hissed and swatted at him angrily.

"Jesus Christ, Mofo, " he said, flinching away from the angry feline. He wasn't sure which was more like to inflict real pain on him, Quinn or the spitting fat cat.

Quinn scooted Mojo onto the floor and then pushed Puck back onto the mattress and sat on him, and not in the good sexy "rub yours up against mine" kind of way either, but with her knees pulled up on his stomach. When she leaned down into his face all the air went out of him and he grunted.

"Do you want to ask another stupid question?" she asked, her voice slow and low. She had one hand gripping him hard on the inner thigh. Five inches higher and he'd be talking and walking funny for days.

"Alright, alright," he whined. "Sam, you mean, Sam. I get it. He wanted to come to dinner. He's all into free food. What's the big deal?"

Quinn squeezed hard and Puck squealed.

"Rachel, okay, he's talking to Rachel," he whimpered and she stopped squeezing. "I didn't know she was gonna be here. Come on, I couldn't know that would happen. Honest to god, I had no idea."

"Fine," she said. "But why are you just watching him do it?"

"I, I, I, I...I don't know?" he stammered. "I guess I hadn't noticed. I didn't think he was doing anything."

At some point Quinn realized she was being irrational, but she didn't care. This was still a wrong situation of Puck's making, as usual.

Quinn had him by the ears now and was nose-to-nose with him, Her knees had slipped down so she was straddling his chest. If he wasn't in so much actual pain he might enjoy it. God help him if he got...excited though, then she would really hurt him.

"Are you seriously that stupid?" she hissed. "You didn't notice him stuck on Rachel's ass like a piece of gum? Sam's a really nice, sweet, stupid kind-of guy. Of course he's going to be all over her. I mean, look at her for fuck's sake. Damn it, Puck."

She smacked him on the head and chest a few times and then grabbed a handful of shirt making sure she caught chest hair and twisted.

"Augh, I so want to kick the snot out of you right now," she grunted. "This was supposed to be a nice casual evening to hang out with Rachel and your idiot friend is fucking that all up."

"Tell me what to do," he groaned, trying frantically to pull her hand off.

"Get him away from her," she yelled in his face.

She twisted her hand hard and there was a ripping sound and Puck bleated like a cow.

Quinn pushed off of him and walked out, slamming the door behind her. She stalked back into the kitchen.

"Puck's having himself a nice little cry at the moment," she announced. "He'll be back when's he's composed himself a bit."

She could hear Santana snorting with laughter.

"All that yelling and Puck moaning. It sounded like you two were having sex," Brittany observed to Santana's utter delight. She grabbed onto the blonde's wrist and shook her head. When Quinn growled she also positioned herself between the two of them in case Quinn got any notions about getting onto Brittany the way she had Puck.

Quinn finally just chuckled in a "unfucking believable" sort of way. She walked over and yanked the refrigerator open and pulled out a beer. Twisting off the cap, she tipped it up and drained it, then reached for another and did the same and was going back for a third.

At that point, Santana rolled her eyes and put down her knife and took matters in hand. She pushed the refrigerator closed, forcibly took the beer away from Quinn and handed it to Brittany. She closed a hand around Quinn's bicep and marched her back down the hall into Puck's bedroom, shutting the door behind them.

"Get a fucking grip, Q," she said, shaking her head. "You're acting like a raging bull."

Quinn glowered at her, then she just groaned and it seemed like all the air went out of her. She fell back on Puck's unmade bed.

"Oh god, San," she whined. "I don't want this. I don't want any of this."

"First of all, fucking eww, " Santana said, grimacing. "Like, really. That's Puck's bed. I would think motel linen would be safer than that."

She shuddered visibly at the thought.

"Second of all, I know you don't," she shrugged. "But too bad, so sad where Rachel is concerned cause it's too late. You just need to man up and deal with it. Stop fighting it and start making it happen."

Quinn shook her head.

"I'm not..." she told her. "I am not going there, not with that idiot ape of a boyfriend in the picture. It's not happening."

"Oh please, as if, " Santana scoffed. "Don't get all noble and shit on me. Do you seriously expect me to believe that you won't go there because of a little competition?"

"It's not even that," she said, groaning in frustration. "He can hurt her."

"You mean...?" Santana started, but Quinn interrupted.

"No, no, I don't mean, like that..." Quinn said, suddenly feeling lightheaded and inarticulate. " I mean, like, through his family. He can fuck with her career. You, of all people, know that is true. "

Santana nodded, getting it. That was a very real possibility and one she hadn't considered.

"You said they yo-yo back and forth, right?" Santana asked.

"I think, yeah," Quinn said, rubbing her forehead. "She said they do the break-up/make-up bullshit."

"So, he never messed her over before?" Santana offered helpfully.

"I get the impression that it was always on him," Quin explained. "He...strayed."

"Of course," Santana muttered. "He's an all-around douche. Wonderful. All the more reason you shouldn't give a fuck about him."

"Doesn't change anything," she said, rolling over, snuggling into the pillow.

Santana frowned and yanked Puck's pillow up with two fingers and hurled it across the room.

Quinn chuckled wryly.

"Then I don't know what to tell you, Q, " Santana admitted. "If it was me, I'd be in there already, boyfriend or no boyfriend. Just crowd him right the fuck out of the picture."

"I don't even know if she's...if she would..." Quinn said, suddenly sleepy-eyed.

"Yeah," Santana chuckled. "She is and she would. Even if she never, she wants to. Trust me on that."

Quinn groaned.

"Look, Puck and Brit aren't wrong about this, Quinn," Santana insisted. "Boyfriend or no boyfriend, that girl is mad into you. I've watched her all night. If you push, she'll fall right over. She'll go for it."

"I don't want her to just 'go for it,' San," Quinn said miserably. "She doesn't deserve that and I'm not going there."

Santana scoffed loudly.

"Whatever you do, Q," Santana told her. "You gotta settle down. Don't scare the poor girl to death. We all know you're harmless, but she might not."

"I'm not harmless," Quinn fussed weakly.

"Puck would agree with that," Santana said amused. "Jesus Christ, Quinn. Get up off his bed before I have to get you a goddamned tetanus shot."

She hauled Quinn to her feet and wrangled her to the door.

"Stop acting like an asshole," she told her. "And Sam, seriously? If you can't deal with that puppy then you don't need to be playing this game at all. Now go sit somewhere and behave until you sober \up and come to your fucking senses."

Quinn grunted, frowning, and Santana shoved her out into the hall.

"Fuck it," she grumbled, pushing past her. "It's like work around here tonight. We're never gonna eat."

"I'm not an asshole," Quinn mumbled and walked down the hall, keeping one hand on the wall to steady herself. She fell into a chair in the living room and sat like Santana told her, mostly pouting. She tipped her head back, but immediately got dizzy and sat back up.

Rachel watched her for a long while and then walked over and sat down on the arm of her chair.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked.

Quinn scoffed quietly at the irony.

"Of course not, "she said immediately, brow knit. She was slurring her words slightly. "No, why would you even think that?"

"You've been kind-of weird," she said hesitantly. "It's like, well, I can't get you to spend five minutes with me. Then again, I can't seem to get Sam away from me either."

Quinn giggled.

"Yes, so I noticed," she told her.

"He's nice, but, I mean," Rachel said, shrugging lightly. "It was just...I was hoping to spend time with... you. And everyone else, of course."

"Of course," Quinn said, now smiling.

"I haven't even really seen the whole house yet," Rachel said, looking around.

"I can fix that," Quinn said, standing up too quickly and feeling all the blood rush to her head. She sat right back down again. Rachel watched amused. She held up a finger and stood again, slowly this time. "Come on."

Rachel got up and followed after her.

Quinn led Rachel through the house, going from room to room, talking to her about all the changes they'd made since she bought it and telling her what they still wanted to work on when time and finances permitted.

"Is this your room?" Rachel asked, ducking immediately into Quinn's bedroom before Quinn could even get a chance to protest.

"Uh, yeah," Quinn said, leaning on the door frame. She watched while Rachel walked around the room, trailing her fingers along, touching things here and there, looking at photos, glancing at book and movie titles.

Quinn would be lying if she said she hadn't envisioned this situation more than once or twice.

While she was watching Loki ran past her. He got to the middle of the room and then, upon spying Rachel, stopped cold and meowed loudly. Rachel's eyes went wide with delight.

"Oh," she chirped upon seeing the pretty little cat.

"He's not very... friendly, " Quinn said, moving over to her desk and sitting down. She decided against using the phrase, "mean little fucker."

Rachel sat down on the bed, calling to him softly and patting the space beside her.

Loki looked at Rachel then swiveled his head and looked at Quinn as if to say, "Is she for real?"

Quinn laughed at him and he flipped his tail at her. Loki watched Rachel for a few minutes and then, to Quinn's astonishment, he walked over and hopped up beside her. Quinn quickly drew a harsh breath.

"Oh, Rachel, please be careful," Quinn said quietly, already wincing, but afraid to move toward them. Loki was fast as lightening and he never let anyone trim his claws. One of his favorite games was called "Try to Blind Puck." A trip to the emergency room would be fitting given the way the evening had been going. "Please not in the face" was all Quinn kept hearing in her head.

Rachel, on the other hand, had no fear whatsoever. She kept talking to the tiny cat in sing-song tones and he warbled right back to her in his weird broken meow while nuzzled his face along her leg, purring non-stop as she petted him. After a few minutes he crawled up on her lap and curled into a happy ball.

"Fuck me with a red-hot poker," Puck said from the doorway and Quinn just looked over at him, equally as befuddled.

"He's so sweet," Rachel cooed softly.

"No," Puck said, frowning. "No, he's not. He's a red-eyed pig-demon from hell. With good taste in chicks though."

Rachel looked up at him with a smile on her face. He walked over to Quinn.

"What the hell did she do to him?" he asked in low tones.

"Dunno," she answered.

Quinn was afraid to take her eyes off the cat.

"She just called him over," Quinn added, still staring.

"Maybe he fell out of the bathroom window on his head?" Puck suggested.

Quinn snorted and slapped at him.

"Seriously," he continued. "That's a pod-cat. Some alien space mold or something. We both know that is not Loki. Fuck, have you ever petted him?"

"Once or twice, " Quinn said. "Never like that."

"Funny," he said, dropping his voice to whisper. "She has the same effect on you. Bet you'd like to trade places with him, so she could pet you like that."

Quinn didn't react to the comment, but Puck didn't have sense enough to move away.

"Santana says food's rea...auuuugh, owwww," he yelped as Quinn caught him by the nipple and twisted.

Loki stood up and hissed loudly at them both.

"Kitty, no," Rachel scolded him. He sassed her back and Rachel simply picked him up and set him on the floor. He promptly raced across the room and clamped himself onto the back of Puck's leg.

"God damn it," Puck roared, trying to kick him off.

"Take it back, " Quinn hissed, the adrenaline burning up the alcohol that was fuzzing her thoughts.

"Bite me, bitch," Puck grunted, flailing at both Quinn and Loki now. "Get off me you fucking psycho weasel."

"Quinn!" Rachel scolded loudly. "Stop it. Puck, you're going to hurt him."

"Hurt him!" Puck yelled incredulously. "I'm bleeding to death."

Quinn looked at Rachel, but didn't Puck loose. Puck, to his credit, was now trying to grab Quinn's nipple as well, but she stayed just out of his reach.

"Stop it, both of you," Rachel insisted. She reached down and peeled Loki off Puck's leg and placed him on the bed. He started frantically licking his paws and grooming, apparently trying to get the taste of Puck off himself.

"Quinn," Rachel said firmly as she put her hand on Quinn's arm. "Let go."

Quinn growled.

"Let...go," Rachel insisted, sliding her hand down and squeezing firmly on Quinn's wrist.

Quinn opened her fingers and Puck squirmed away.

"Fabray, if you lay another hand on me today," he said, his face red. He got right up in Quinn's face and she just stared at him, almost smirking.

"You'll what?" she said, twitching a brow.

Rachel carefully and deliberately edged her way in between them and they both gaped at her. They both thought about picking her up and physically moving her out of the way, but Quinn got to her first.

Rachel batted at her hands as she gently looped her arms around her waist and lifted her.

"No," she sputtered. "Put me down."

Quinn couldn't keep from smiling.

"Stay here," Quinn told her, settling her on her feet about three feet away. "I don't want you to get hurt in the crossfire."

When she turned to walk back to Puck Rachel grabbed onto her and held on. Quinn looked helplessly at Puck who just shrugged.

"Stop fighting," Rachel said firmly, latched fiercely onto Quinn.

"Rachel, turn me loose," Quinn said, frowning.

''No," she declared adamantly. "Not until you promise me you'll leave him alone."

Quinn scoffed.

"Yeah Q," Puck added. "Promise her you'll leave me alone."

Puck started making a whole host of obscene gestures, all of which Rachel couldn't see because she was fixed behind Quinn. Quinn grunted and reached for him, but Rachel pulled her back.

"I'm waiting, Quinn," Rachel scolded.

"Yeah Quinn," Puck said. "She's waiting."

"I would suggest you stay out of this, Noah," Rachel countered firmly. "Unless you'd like me to turn her loose with my blessing."

Quinn smirked at him. She wasn't in any hurry for this to be over – she liked Rachel's hands clamped over her stomach and her firm little body pressed up against her back. Rachel could scold her like this anytime.

"You both need to say sorry," Rachel urged firmly.

Puck was motioning for Quinn to pull Rachel's hands up onto her breasts. Quinn was glaring at him and looking for something long enough to hit him over the head with. She pick up a paperback and flung it hard at him. It barely missed him and Rachel grabbed her hand so she couldn't reload.

"Ha, missed," Puck taunted.

"We can stay here like this all night," Rachel said, as though that was a bad thing.

Puck was mouthing, "grab her ass," and miming for Quinn to reach around and grab Rachel's behind. At first Quinn rolled her eyes at him, but then she noticed he got a funny look on his face. It was a serious "uh oh" face. Puck's eyes shifted down and Quinn followed his gaze. His hand shot down to cover his crotch, but he wasn't fast enough and Quinn practically snarled at him. At that point he bolted out of the room and Quinn lunged at him, dragging Rachel along, as he scurried past her. Rachel managed to kick the door shut as he ran through it.

Quinn grunted and turned around, facing Rachel.

"Little one," she said, cutting her eyes hard at her. "That wasn't a smart thing to do."

Rachel frowned slightly and started backing up. Quinn followed her.

"You really don't want to get between Noah and I when we get like that," she told her, shaking her head for emphasis. "It's not a good idea."

Rachel kept walking backwards until she came up to the bed and she toppled back onto it.

"I know you're not going to hurt me," she said, looking intently at Quinn.

"Of course I'm not," Quinn scoffed. She offered her hand to Rachel to help her up. Instead, Rachel pulled hard and Quinn toppled down beside her. Rachel quickly scrambled around and got on top of her and totally in that sexy "rub yours against mine" kind of way."

This was bad. Good, but bad, really bad. Quinn's body and her still-slightly inebriated mind were have a huge debate and, at the moment, her body was winning. Everything was on full-scale red alert. She wanted her hands on Rachel in a big way.

"Rachel, you need to get off of me," Quinn said, her tone serious.

Rachel just laughed and bounced on her.

Holy fucking shit. She actually fucking bounced...on...her.

"Don't do that," Quinn said without a shred of conviction.

Quinn's mind began to shut down, switches were being thrown right and left and instinct was starting to take over. She brought her hands up and held onto Rachel's waist. It took every last ounce of self control not to run them up beneath her shirt. Quinn glimpsed a sliver of tawny bare skin peeking from beneath Rachel's shirt at the waist and groaned.

Rachel giggled.

"Rachel," Quinn said slowly shaking her head. "You really, really don't want to be doing this."

Rachel giggled again.

"Why not?" she asked innocently.

"Because," Quinn said, not trusting herself to say anything more.

"Because why not" Rachel pressed, squirming around playfully. The effects on Quinn were anything but silly.

Quinn's eyes glazed over and closed. All she could feel was the weight of Rachel pressing down on her, wiggling against her. She was squeezing her slightly with her thighs. Everything felt like it was in slow motion – moving up and down, side-to-side. It was electric.

"Last warning," Quinn said thickly. "If you don't get off me...somebody's going to get...well...and... truly..."

Rachel smiled and tucked a finger in her mouth and then batted her eyes at Quinn.

"What, Quinn?" she asked coyly, teasing.

"Tickled," Quinn said suddenly. She pushed up and rolled Rachel over onto her back and dug her fingers into her sides, tickling her fervently.

Rachel shrieked and squealed with laughter. Quinn lay on top of her, pinning her, tickling up and down as she tried to squirm away from her. So maybe her fingers grazed some places they shouldn't have, but it was still mostly all just in fun.

"Stop, stop," Rachel gasped out, pushing on Quinn's hands, then on her chest and shoulders. Quinn laughed and stopped for a minute, letting Rachel catch her breath. Then she started right back up again and Rachel howled with loud laughter. Quinn couldn't stop herself from grinning.

"You're...so...mean," Rachel gasped out between peals of laughter.

"Yes...I...am," Quinn admitted. "And you like it, too."

"No, I don't, " Rachel said without an ounce of conviction. "You're awful."

"Take it back," Quinn said, her tone airy. "You saw what I did to Puck."

"Ah," Rachel said.

Her eyes widened dramatically and she squealed then put her hands protectively over her chest. Quinn just laughed. She stopped and leaned her head into Rachel's chest.

"Are you finished," Rachel asked, desperately trying to sound indignant, but the corners of her mouth and her eyes betrayed her.

Quinn sat up and bit her lip.

"Um," she said, letting her eyes roll up in thought. "Hell no. "

She ran her fingers slightly under Rachel's shirt and skimmed them across her bare stomach. Rachel tossed and flailed and kicked but she couldn't get away from Quinn's fingers and she couldn't stop laughing either.

Quinn, on the other hand, thought her heart might explode. The sensation of having Rachel pinned beneath and her hands on her bare skin just mere inches below her breasts was starting to play havoc on her. She was breathing heavy and it wasn't all from effort. All she could think about was her fingers wrapping around Rachel's firm breasts.

This was a really, really stupid idea.

In a world where someone might not walk through her door and the likes of Finn Hudson didn't exist this situation would likely have a very different ending. But her door was unlocked and she fully expected Santana to kick it open at any moment and, like it or not, Finn Hudson very much existed. Also, like it or not, Rachel was his girlfriend. Until either of those circumstances changed, Quinn would color within the lines and play by the rules where Rachel Berry was concerned. She could tickle and wrestle and flirt and maybe even sneak a chaste kiss or hug now and then, but that was as far as it could go regardless of how much her own body pleaded with her to do otherwise. Rachel could sit up and beg her for more and Quinn would probably still decline.

Finally, winded and deflated by the reality of the situation, Quinn rolled away, but not too far away. They both lay panting heavily and snickering. Rachel felt around and found Quinn's hand, then she closed her fingers around it.

"I take it back," Rachel said, squeezing her fingers. "You're not awful."

"Thank you for saying so," Quinn answered, squeezing back.

The door burst open and Santana stepped in, frowning.

"If you two are though having tickle-fights and combing each other's hair," she said, clearly not amused. "The rest of us would like to eat sometime tonight."

With that, she spun on her heel and stormed out.

Rachel and Quinn both just giggled. Quinn rolled over and pushed at Rachel to get up. Rachel got to her feet then reached her hands out and pulled Quinn up. They playfully jostled each other all down the hall but pulled up short when they realized everyone was already seated for dinner and were all now watching them.

Suddenly feeling guilty, they sat down at the table and looked around. Everyone was still staring at them, except for Puck. He was just glaring at Quinn. She picked up a piece of broccoli and chucked it at him, hitting him in the chest. He drew back with a dinner roll but Santana slammed both hands down on the table before he could follow through.

"You let fly with one more piece of my food I swear to God I'll send both of you to your rooms," she warned. "No dinner, no alcohol."

She looked pointedly at Quinn.

"No Rachel," she threatened and Quinn felt her face go pink. Rachel cut her eyes in her direction and snickered.

"I'm dead fucking serious," Santana continued. "Stop behaving like children and eat for god's sake."

She sat down and picked up her fork.

"Amen," Brittany added with a nod.

She leaned over to Rachel.

"San's so hot when she's bossy," she told her. "She totally tops."

Rachel choked on her tea. Quinn snorted and Puck snickered into his hand. Santana glowered hotly at all of them. They all quickly picked up their forks and started eating, sneaking glances around at each other.

**=^..^=**

"That was so good," Rachel said, groaning. "I'm so stuffed."

"Yeah," Quinn agreed, settling back into the patio chair. She let her eyes roam across the yard and then settled them on Rachel. Her quiet inspection was interrupted by a loud, rowdy roar from inside the house.

"Goodness,," Rachel said with a laugh, looking up.

"They're playing drinking games," Quinn told her. "They make them up as they go."

"Sound interesting," Rachel remarked.

"The first 100 or so times, maybe," Quinn said, leaning back and drawing her knees up to her chest. "Mark my word, it will end badly."

Rachel sat cross-legged on the deck rolling the tennis ball to Pie. He would chew on it then spit it out and wait for her to roll it back again.

"Does he ever get tired of this," she asked.

Quinn nodded.

"Yes, eventually, " she told her. "Actually, that's the most I've seen him play in ages. He must feel good today."

"Is this yours?" Rachel cooed at him, holding up the tattered, faded yellow ball. "Is this yours?"

Pie yelped and whined, squirming and swimming across the deck in her direction.

She chuckled and rolled it to him and the whole process started all over again.

"It so nice out here," Rachel said, leaning back on her palms, looking around.

"Yeah, I love it out here," Quinn admitted. "I really bought the backyard. The house just sort-of came with it. I fall asleep sometimes just looking up at the stars."

Rachel shivered visibly and Quinn frowned. She stood up and peeled off her loose sweater.

"Here," she told Rachel. "Arms up."

Rachel put her arms in the air and Quinn slipped the sweater over her head and pulled it down. Considering how tiny she was it was not surprising she was fairly well swimming in it.

"Better?" Quinn asked.

"Yes," Rachel said and nodded. "Thank you."

Quinn smiled at her and walked back to her seat.

Rachel hugged the sweater around her and immediately noticed that it smelled like Quinn.

"It's okay to stop if you get tired," Quinn said, sitting back down again. "He'll be fine. I'm surprised he hasn't asked to go inside by now."

"How bad is..." Rachel started to ask, obviously trying to her words with care. Quinn spared her the effort.

"He has good days and bad days," Quinn admitted. "Starting to be more bad than good. I have to help him a lot more now. I don't know how much...longer."

Quinn stopped short and just shrugged.

"I don't know anymore," she said morosely.

Rachel rolled the ball again and this time it didn't come back. Zip nosed it lightly, then put his head down on his paws and closed his yes. Quinn watch and finally had to just look away. Rachel could see the uncertainty behind her expression, and she crossed over and pulled up a chair beside her.

"It's hard," Rachel said, her voice gentle. "I understand."

Quinn sighed deeply and nodded.

'I know you do," she told her, glancing over at her.

Rachel wanted to reach out and hold Quinn's hand, but sensing that it would make her uncomfortable, she didn't.

The roar from inside the house got louder followed by a loud crash and angry voices.

"Oh shit," Quinn muttered, pulling herself out of her chair. Rachel stood up beside her, tugging her shirt down, now self-conscious about it riding up. "I suppose I should be concerned about that."

"Probably so," Rachel said.

"Please don't let me kill Puck tonight, okay?" Quinn said with a laugh.

"Okay," Rachel said, smiling. "I'll keep you in check."

"Thank you," she told her.

"QUINN!"

Santana, Brittany and Puck all yelled her name at the same time and Quinn growled. Rachel chuckled and grabbed her around the wrist.

"Come on," she said, pulling on her toward the door. "Your public is calling you."

Quinn reluctantly followed after Rachel into the house.

**=^..^=**

Quinn sat at the kitchen table, holding up Santana's knuckles, inspecting them. They were visibly bloody and swollen.

"Good news," Quinn told her, squinting at her hand. "I don't think it's broken. Bad news, it's gonna hurt like fuck for awhile."

She prodded it with her finger and Santana hissed loudly, pulling her hand away.

"Thanks, Florence Fucking Nothing-gale," she said sourly, still wincing.

"I can't believe you actually punched him," Quinn said, still shaking her head.

"Oh right," Santana spat back at her. "You're one to talk. He's your personal hacky sack."

That made Quinn laugh.

"What exactly did he do again?" she asked.

"He made some lewd comment and then slapped at Brittany when she tried to cover his mouth, " she said heatedly. "He's lucky he still has teeth left."

Yup, he is, Quinn thought to herself, considering.

Quinn got up and dug ice cubes out of the freezer and wrapped them in a kitchen towel. She handed it to Santana.

"Here," she suggested. "Hold this on it."

Santana put the towel against her swollen knuckles, gasped in pain and then swore a bright blue streak. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Just sit there and hold that," she instructed. "I'll take care of the dishes."

Santana smiled, then puffed her lip out dramatically when she noticed Quinn looking at her.

"Ow," she said, holding up her hand. She proffered a fake sniffle.

"Uh huh," Quinn retorted, rolling up her sleeves.

**=^..^=**

When Quinn finished cleaning up the kitchen, she walked into the family room and found them all happily playing again.

"Nice to see you all playing like good little boys and girls," she said sarcastically.

"Ha ha," Puck muttered, his eye starting to puff up and bruise darkly.

Santana popped him a good one, Quinn noted, snickering to herself.

"Come on," Rachel said loudly, banging her hand on the table. "Let's go."

She leaned back into Quinn and smiled up at her.

"I'm winning, " she told her happily.

"What are you playing?" Quinn asked.

"Monopoly," she said excitedly. "I'm winning."

"So you've said, twice," Quinn remarked.

Quinn couldn't believe they were actually playing Monopoly.

"Really?" she said, surprised. "Monopoly?"

"Only you have to drink lemonade instead of money." Rachel told her, nodding emphatically.

"Lemonade?" Quinn asked.

Where in the hell did they get lemonade?

She picked up one of the little shot glasses sitting on the game board and sniffed, then sipped.

"Fuck," she said furiously. "Rachel, how many of these have you had?"

"I don't know," she said, leaning back against her again. "Four or five."

"Okay, who's brilliant idea was this?" Quinn hissed, glaring hard at Puck. "As if I fucking didn't know. Why are you letting her drink that shit?"

"She wanted to play," he protested. "She's not a toddler, Quinn."

"It's just lemonade," Rachel said again, smiling and bouncing her head on Quinn's thighs. Quinn put her hand on her head. "I'm winning."

"It's not lemonade, honey," she told her. "It's a goddamn lemon drop."

"Right, lemonade," Rachel corrected.

Quinn sighed. She was tired.

She was tired of fighting with Puck. She was tired of playing host. She was tired of being around Rachel and having to behave. She was tired of worrying about Mr. Arnstein. And Pie. And Flip.

She was just tired.

"Come one, sweetie," she told her, smiling down at her. "Let's get you home so you can sleep off your lemonade."

"But I'm winning," she protested. "And I'm not tired, either. No, I'm staying."

"But you won," she told her. "Grand prize."

"Really?"" Rachel asked, looking around, confused.

Everyone nodded, even Brittany after Santana nudged her.

"What's my prize?" she asked excitedly.

"We'll figure that out on the way home," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

Rachel stood up and immediately her knees gave way. Quinn caught her around the waist and glared at Puck, who suddenly decided to study the game board for hidden patterns.

"Oh," Rachel muttered, surprised. "I'm really...hi!"

"Hello," Quinn answered.

Santana got up and came over Quinn.

"Maybe she should just stay here," she suggested.

"That's not happening." Quinn told her.

"Put her on the couch, " she urged, but Quinn shook her head. Santana sighed.

"I'll help you," she told her. "Come on, Rachel,"

Santana looped her arm around Rachel, holding her up while Quinn gathered her things. She and Quinn walked Rachel down the driveway and poured her into the front seat, closing the door.

"You don't have to do this," she told Quinn. "You're just being stubborn."

"Probably," Quinn agreed. "So you know it's pointless to argue with me."

"I do," Santana agreed. "Well, be careful. You weren't too good earlier."

"That was several hours and a heavy meal ago," Quinn pointed out. "I'm fine. Pissed, but fine."

"Puck's right," Santana insisted. "She wanted to play."

Quinn just held up her hand and Santana stopped arguing with her.

"Night Rachel," she said, tapping on the glass to get Rachel's attention. Rachel waved and blew kisses.

"Oh yeah," Santana said, smiling. "You better hope she passes out or you're going to be in trouble."

Quinn grunted then walked to the driver's side and climbed in.

"Hi," Rachel said.

Quinn chuckled.

Five minutes into the drive, Rachel scooted over and leaned her head against Quinn. Five minute after that she was snoring quietly, her hands wrapped around Quinn's. When Quinn turned up her driveway she stirred slightly and snuggled.

"Time to get out," Quinn told her.

"No," Rachel pouted, clinging and pulling on Quinn, who detached herself gently and climbed out. She walked around and opened the passenger door.

"Come on, Rachel," she said.

Rachel looked at her, shook her head and then fell over in the seat, laughing.

"Damn it," Quinn muttered. She leaned in and grabbed Rachel's legs, pulling her across the seat. Rachel laughed and grabbed at the steering wheel but missed. Quinn got a hold of one arm and hauled her upright, then she pulled her to her feet, shutting the door behind her so she couldn't scramble back inside.

Rachel now had other ideas. She opened her arms and wrapped them around Quinn, hanging on her neck.

"I'm tipsy," she told her as though it was a secret.

"Yes," Quinn confirmed. "I believe you are."

Rachel held a finger to her lip and shush her.

"Don't tell," she said.

"Our secret," Quinn assured her, holding her upright.

"I just love your friends," she added. "I had the best time."

Quinn couldn't help but smile. Then Rachel began running her fingers up and down Quinn's neck, causing Quinn's eyes to roll back in her head.

"You smell nice," Rachel announced, nuzzling her nose into the crook of Quinn's neck, inhaling deeply.

"Just like your sweater."

"Thank you," Quinn said.

Rachel giggled at nothing then sighed deeply. It was clear she was perfectly content to stay right there in Quinn's arms as long as she could.

"Fucking Flizz," she muttered.

"Yup, fucking Flizz," Quinn repeated, mainly because she liked the sound of Rachel saying it.

"Actually, there's no fucking Flix, " Rachel whispered loudly, shushing again.

Quinn liked Rachel saying that even better.

"Not for weeks and weeks and weeks," Rachel continued. "A lot of weeks."

"Rachel," Quinn shushed her. "You might not want to share too much tonight."

"Why not?" she asked. "He'll tell you. Just ask. 'Please, Rach, please.' That's all he says anymore."

"That's... a happy thought," Quinn admitted.

"I'm really sleepy," Rachel said, snuggling against Quinn contentedly.

"Is Flizz here?" Quinn asked.

Rachel shook her head.

"Mmm mm, no," she said. "I don't know where he is. He doesn't have a key."

As if to prove it, she dangled her keys from one finger where Quinn could see them.

That made Quinn happy for some reason.

"Okay then, turn me loose, sweetie," Quinn requested.

"Mmm, 'kay," Rachel said, making no move to turn Quinn loose. She was now petting lightly on Quinn's chest.

"You're killing me here, Rachel, " Quinn said and Rachel chuckled softly and let her go.

"I'm not trying to, honest," she said earnestly, her eyes wide and impossibly soft.

"I know you aren't," Quinn reassured her.

She reached down and took Rachel's keys out of her hand. "Let's get you to bed, okay?"

Quinn helped her into the house and up the stairs. She left her laying across the bed with what she guessed were her pajamas draped over her and then went back downstairs. She checked all the door locks, then she found a bottle of water and some crackers and carried everything back upstairs.

Rachel had managed to take off one shoe and her jeans. Quinn put the water and crackers on the nightstand and pulled off her other shoe. She started to unbutton her shirt until she realized that she wasn't wearing a bra and then she stopped.

There was a limit to how much she could torture herself and that was the rope's end. She pulled Rachel up and turned back the covers on her bed.

"Come on, little one," she told her. Rachel frowned and climbed into her bed.

"I don't like this shirt," she muttered. "It's itchy."

"You'll be okay," Quinn said.

Rachel kept trying to pull it off and Quinn kept pulling her hands away.

"Help me," she whined and held up her arms. "Off."

"Just close your eyes, Rachel," Quinn urged, hoping to distract her from the shirt.

"You could stay," Rachel said, holding on to her hand. "Until I fall asleep."

"You're asleep right now," Quinn told her. "This is all a dream."

"Nope," Rachel said, shaking her head. "Not."

"How do you know" Quinn asked, smiling.

"Cause," Rachel said quietly, her eyes closing. "I know."

Thank goodness.

"Hmmm," Quinn said, brushing her hair back out of her face. "Okay, how?"

"Cause you're not kissing me," Rachel said softly, rolling over, dragging Quinn's hand with her.

Quinn was stunned into silence. Dazed, she lay down behind Rachel, leaving her arm draped over her waist.

"Quinn?" Rachel said.

"What?" Quinn asked nervously.

"Why aren't you with someone?" she asked randomly.

"I'm too fussy," Quinn replied truthfully. Well, that's what Santana said anyway.

"I don't think you're fussy, " she replied. "I think you're nice."

"Yes," Quinn agreed. "Nice and fussy."

"I have an audition tomorrow," Rachel blurted out.

"God, Rachel, "Quinn scolded softly. "Why didn't you say something. It's so late and you're..."

"Yeah, I know, " Rachel admitted. "I just didn't want to be by myself tonight."

"You could have just said that," Quinn told her. "We could have just...I would have been fine staying here."

"I think you're more comfortable with your friends around," she said quickly. "I think you get nervous."

"I'm alone with you right now," she told her. "Do I look nervous?"

"I can't see you," Rachel said.

There were quiet giggles.

"Okay then," Quinn said, laughing. "Do I sound nervous."

Rachel smiled and shook her head.

"I must admit that you're putting on a brave front," she told her.

"It's a struggle, but I'm trying," Quinn teased.

"You're doing an admir...admun...adir," Rachel stammered, unable to pronounce the word she wanted. "You're doing a good job."

"I guess," Quinn said.

"Why are you quiet?" Rachel asked. "I like you talking to me."

"Rachel, I can't not say it any longer," Quinn said, slowly shaking her head. "It probably will come across as totally self-serving, all things considered and maybe it is, but why are you with him? I mean, it's just so..."

Quinn struggled to find the words.

"I'm not very good with relationships," Rachel admitted. "I tend to cling and be... needy and demanding and all the things you aren't supposed to be."

"Sorry, still not getting it," Quinn remarked.

"I didn't have much experience...in high school...with boys, " she said quietly. "Or, well, any really. College was only slightly better, but considering most of the boys in my program were gay...it's a wonder I ever managed to...well, anyway."

Quinn listened, trying to make sense of her rambling, looking for anything that would help her to understand what seemed beyond comprehension.

"When I first came out here, it was a struggle, " she admitted. "I wasn't getting any work. I didn't have many, well, any friends. Then I met Finn and it was different. Nobody like him had ever been interested in me before."

What, a selfish twit? Quinn was struggling to keep her thoughts to herself.

"I know you haven't experienced him at him best," Rachel said. "But he does have moments, honestly, he does."

"I'm going to have to take you at your word," Quinn said unconvinced.

"I wish you could like him," Rachel said, sadly. "Just a little."

"No, Rachel," Quinn answered, more than a little bit angry. "You don't. Don't wish that because it's not going to happen. It just isn't. I tolerate him and only just barely. And only for..."

Quinn sighed, pulled away and rolled over on her back.

"For me," Rachel said.

"Yeah," Quinn said. "Yes."

"Thank you," Rachel said.

"He's not worthy," Quinn finally offered. "You have to know that, don't you?"

Rachel didn't answer her.

"Okay," Quinn announced, sitting up. "You're safe and in your bed. I'm going home."

She scooted off the bed and Rachel rolled over watching her.

"Sleep tight, chickadee," Quinn told her with a wave. She turned to go.

Rachel scramble from beneath the covers and scooted across the bed.

"Smee!" she said and Quinn stopped, sighing.

"Yes?" she asked, turning back again.

"Thank you for tonight," she said. "It was really...I had so much fun."

"Too much, " Quinn scolded, teasing.

"Maybe a little," Rachel admitted.

"From now on, don't drink things my friends give you," Quinn suggested.

"Mmm," Rachel nodded, her eyes drooping again. "Good tip."

"Night, sweetie," Quinn said. "I'll lock the door after myself."

"There's a key on the hall table," Rachel told her. "You can take it with you."

"I don't...it's...I..." Quinn sputtered. "Fine. Goodnight, Rachel."

She turned again and managed a step or two.

"Quinn," Rachel called after her. "Wait."

"What?" Quinn asked. This could go on for hours if she didn't fall asleep soon.

"Can I have a kiss?" Rachel asked, looking up at her through her lashes.

"Excuse me?" Quinn asked.

"You know, for tomorrow, for luck?" Rachel explained.

Quinn chuckled.

"So you can be amazing?" Quinn asked.

"Yes," Rachel said, nodding. "Not to mention I'm an actress, so I'm rather superstitious."

She slurred the last word into nothing but "superssssssss."

"Oh really," Quinn said, arching her brow suspiciously. "Funny I haven't really noticed that about you."

"Oh yes," Rachel assured her. "Lots of rituals and supersssss, more than you'd ever guess."

"Uh huh," Quinn said.

Quinn just looked at her, then leaned in and pressed her lips firmly against her warm, smooth cheek, and pulled back.

"Um," Rachel said.

"Yes?" Quinn asked, smirking.

"Not to be stickler, but..." Rachel said and hesitated. "I mean, for the sake of..."

"Superstition?"

"Yes, superssss, sup... right, exactly," Rachel said. "I mean, last time it wasn't on the cheek."

"And last time you didn't get the part either," Quinn reminded her.

"Maybe it was because I was wearing that mask thingee," she said, winding her finger up and down in front of her lips. "You know and it's possible that it prevented the full effect of the..."

Quinn leaned forward and pressed her lips against Rachel's, stopping her in mid-thought. She held them there for a more than a few quick beats of her hammering heart. When she felt Rachel press harder and move toward her she quickly pulled back.

"Better?" she asked, swallowing hard.

"Um, yes, much, absolutely," Rachel said. "I'm sure that's...very...lucky.

"Goodnight, Rachel," Quinn said. She leaned in and kissed her again softly, just barely brushing this time.

"For insurance," she told her.

Before Rachel could say or do anything more, Quinn walked out of the room and quickly down the stairs. She paused and briefly considered sleeping on the sofa. Then she also considered the possibility that right that very instant Rachel might be pulling that itchy camp shirt off and immediately rejected the idea. She couldn't be in the same house with her. Not right now. Not tonight.

She crossed to the hall table and picked up the key, then she went through the front door, locking the deadbolt after herself. She slipped the key on her key ring, got into her car and drove home, trying not to think of Rachel the entire way, but failing miserably.

**=^..^=**


	8. Chapter 8: Tick Tock, Back on the Clock

A/N: Lots of concern, it seems, about the fate of this tale and the other. Fear not - updates appear a bit slower these busy days, but will appear nevertheless. There's still more to say for those who wish to_ listen_. Thanks to all who lend their eyes and thoughts. It definitely makes the telling all worthwhile.

Chapter Eight  
>Tick Tock, Back on the Clock<p>

**Day Eight**

*Check traps  
>*Put up camera<br>*Check on Rachel  
>*Network neighborhood<p>

When Quinn got back to the house she found bodies everywhere. Brittany and Santana had commandeered her bedroom and Sam was draped out across the couch. The so-called guest room upstairs was still a hodgepodge of construction materials and unpacked boxes, so her options for suitable places to sleep were limited.

If they hadn't spent all evening battling like spoiled children she might have considered sleeping in Puck's room. If she asked, he would probably give her the bed to herself, too. He spent many nights sleeping in the recliner in front of the television. All things considered, it looked like that was her best option.

After the first hour, it was nowhere near comfortable or conducive to sleep and she tossed about fitfully. When Sam started snoring and muttering the situation became all but intolerable. She picked up her cell phone and glanced at the time. It was nearly 4 am and she'd had a sum total of two hours of restless sleep.

She lay staring up at the ceiling, replaying the evening over in her head.

Had Rachel really said she kissed her in her dreams?

She really wanted to regret kissing Rachel, however innocently, but she couldn't. The only part of it that she perhaps lamented was that Rachel had been fairly-well intoxicated and there was a good chance she wouldn't remember it happening. Then again, perhaps that was for the best as well.

Quinn closed her eyes and touched her fingers against her lips. If there was nothing more ever to come of it, it was a pretty perfect little kiss.

Sam farted loudly in his sleep.

"Oh Christ," Quinn groaned in disgust, scrambled up and rushed out of the living room. She ducked quietly into her room, found a fresh change of clothes, then showered and changed. If she hurried maybe she could sleep a few hours at the office before the chaos of the day ensued.

She walked through the back doors and immediately saw the trail cam still on the work table in the backroom. No doubt this was evidence that Puck was stalling – he as much as told her he thought it would just get wrecked or stolen.

"Damn it, Noah," she cursed. "I'll just do it myself."

She carried it out and put it in her car along with a tool box and power drill. She had no idea what she was going to mount it on, but now she was mostly just hellbent on proving him wrong. She went back inside and sacked out on the couch in the backroom. It didn't take long for her to realize she was hopeless wide awake. Accepting futility, she tossed the throw blanket off and got up. She gathered her things and went out the back, locking the office behind her. At least she beat the morning rush and it only took her 20 minutes to get to Rachel's. She would get the camera set up and then think about getting some breakfast.

There nothing in the vicinity of the dumpster she could anchor the camera on, so she was forced to improvise. She scouted around and found some 2x4 scraps and screwed them into the soft mortar between the cinder blocks and then strapped the camera around them. Someone would have to be actively looking for the camera to see it so it wasn't like to be stolen. It was more likely that it might get crushed if they emptied the dumpster.

Without a computer to fine tune it Quinn had to rough guess at the angle. Maybe she'd pull the card and check it later if she could.

It was a little bit after 8 when she finished. If she looked in on Rachel now she could go about the rest of her day with her mind at ease. After stowing her tools in her trunk, she crossed the parking lot and walked up Rachel's drive. She tried the door and found it still locked, thankfully. She knocked and wait, but got no response. As a last resort, she fumbled for her key ring and slipped the shiny new key in the lock. It turned easily. She stepped inside and locked the door behind, laying her things on the hall table.

It was perfectly still inside. The only lights were those she'd left on.

She easily climbed the stairs. The door to Rachel's bedroom was closed and she knew she hadn't closed it when she left her so Rachel must have been up at some point. Quinn knocked softly, but didn't get an answer. She tried the knob and it turned, so she pushed the door open quietly.

The bed was empty and the covers sleep-mussed. The crackers she'd left were partially eaten and the bottled water was opened, but spilled over on the dresser. She quickly set it upright, frowning.

"Rachel?" she said, breaking the silence.

There was no answer so she stepped fully into the room. It was then she noticed the bathroom door was ajar. She crossed over and knocked softly.

"Rachel?" she called again.

There was a soft groaning in response. Quinn pushed the door open. Rachel was sitting on the floor, sprawled across the toilet, her head cradled in her folded arms.

"Oh no," Quinn said gently.

Rachel raised her head.

"Quinn," she whimpered.

Quinn started toward her but Rachel began to protest.

"No, no, don't," she said, waving her hand limply. "Please, no. I'm so...gross."

Quinn ignored her and crouched down next to her. Rachel was pale and her eyes were pained and dull.

"I've been sick," Rachel said.

"Yes, you sure have," Quinn agreed, wincing in sympathy.

She stood up and found what she hoped was a clean washcloth. She soaked it with cool water at the sink and then squatted back down.

"Look up at me a minute, chickadee," she requested.

Rachel whined and tried to pull away.

"Come on now," Quinn scolded.

Reluctantly, Rachel raised her head and Quinn wiped her face off, using her free hand to push the little brunette's wild, damp hair back out of her face. Even in this disheveled state, Quinn found her adorable.

"How long have you been like this?" Quinn asked, working carefully.

"I don't know," Rachel miserably. "Forever."

Quinn felt tremendously guilty. She was kicking herself for leaving, not that it would have changed anything. She stood up and rinsed out the washcloth, got it cool again, and went right back. Rachel was leaning her head back down on her crossed arms. Quinn folded the washcloth and place it against the back of her neck.

"I hate your friends," Rachel said, moaning.

"I know you do," Quinn replied. "I don't blame you. They're evil."

"Evil," she repeated.

Quinn chuckled to herself.

"Please be mean to them," Rachel fussed.

"Hmmm, I will," Quinn said, her eyes smiling.

It was much warmer in the bathroom than the bedroom and Rachel was damp with sweat and her skin hot to the touch. It would be much more comfortable for both of them in the other room.

"Can you get up?" Quinn asked.

Rachel shook her head painfully.

"What if I help you?" Quinn offered.

"No," she said weakly, making no effort to try.

"I don't want to leave you sitting here," Quinn told her.

Rachel grabbed her wrist and held it tightly.

"Please don't leave," she croaked, her voice rough.

"I'm not leaving you," Quinn said quickly to calm her. "I just want to go downstairs for a minute."

"No," she said with a hard sigh. "Stay...here."

Quinn turned the washcloth over to the cooler side and placed it back, holding it firmly. She braced her back against the wall and slid down the floor.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said quietly, following it with a soft, pained moan.

Quinn scoffed.

"Why are you sorry?" she asked, shaking her head. "You're being silly." She pulled the washcloth away and rubbed her hand lightly up and down Rachel's back. She could feel her shirt sticking against her skin.

"Seriously, come on, chickadee," she tried again, working her hand across her back and up under her arm. "Let me get you out of here."

"Quinn, no," Rachel whined loudly but Quinn was persistent. She helped her to her feet and then supported her the short distance to her bed where she helped her under the covers.

"Uh uh, dizzy," Rachel said as she lay back and Quinn quickly propped her up on several pillows.

"Better?" she asked, watching her with concern.

Rachel nodded.

Quinn sat down next to her, running a hand across her forehead. She still felt flush.

"I'm going to go..." she said.

"No," Rachel interrupted, her eyes pleading. She was clinging.

"Rachel," Quinn scolded. "Let me finish. I'm just going downstairs. I will be right back."

She went in the bathroom and carried out the wastebasket and placed it next to the bed.

"Just in case," she told her.

Rachel moaned pitifully and closed her eyes.

Quinn made her way into the kitchen and began rummaging through the cabinets. She found some tea bags and ran some water through the coffee maker to get it hot. While she let the tea steep, she found some bread in the refrigerator and toasted it. She also found some small containers of applesauce and put one on the counter. She barely buttered the toast and then finished making a cup of lightly sweet tea. She put everything on a serving tray and added a fresh bottle of cold water and a can of ginger ale she'd found, then she carried it all back up the stairs.

Rachel's eyes were still closed, but they opened flew open the minute Quinn placed the tray on the bedside table and sat back down beside her.

"Here, sip," Quinn told her, holding the tea up to her lips so she could drink.

Rachel turned her head and pushed it away. Quinn sighed and pursed her lips. She wasn't a very good nurse; patience wasn't her strong suit. That said, what she lacked in finesse she made up for in pure practicality and stubbornness.

"Little one, you're dehydrated," she explained reasonably. "You'll feel better as soon as we can fix that and this is the only way I know to fix it. So, small sips."

She held the cup again and Rachel drank slowly, then fell back against the pillows.

"Thank you," Quinn told her with a slight smile "Let's wait a little bit and see how that goes."

She went in the bathroom and wet the washcloth again, this time with warm water. She carried it back out and, one at a time, she wiped Rachel's hands with it.

Rachel watched her without comment.

"You're kinda sticky," she explained, smirking.

Rachel grunted unhappily.

"I'm keeping you," Rachel remarked, watching her through lidded eyes with a pained expression on her face.

"Please do," was the response that Quinn felt pop into her head.

"You must have somewhere you need to be," Rachel added.

Quinn just shook her head.

"I don't need to be anywhere but right here," she assured her easily even though her mind was reeling with the long list of things she had on her schedule for the day. "No worries."

"My audition is fucked," she whimpered, her eyes conveying her disappointment. Quinn sighed. She'd been waiting for that to come up.

"What time is it supposed to happen?" she asked.

"I can't, " Rachel said, shaking her head. "Doesn't matter."

"It's still early, " Quinn told her. "Maybe you should sleep on it, then decide."

Rachel's chin quivered slightly and she gave a tight shake of her head.

If the choice was between Rachel crying or vomiting, Quinn wasn't sure which she thought was worse.

"I'll take you," Quinn offered, leaning down to catch her tear-glazed eyes. "If you want to at least try, I'll take you and bring you right home."

Rachel just looked away. Quinn stood up and tossed the washcloth into the bathroom sink and then eased back down.

"Let's try some more tea," she suggested, hoping to change the subject. She picked up the cup and Rachel nodded. She drank more this time and brought her hands up and held the cup for herself.

"Good," she remarked, trying for a wan smile.

Quinn didn't really care if she like it or not, only that she drank it.

"I brought some food, too." she mentioned, nodding toward the tray. "When you're ready."

Rachel waved her off.

From across the room, Rachel's cellphone rang and Quinn looked at her.

"Do you want that?" she asked.

First Rachel shook her head, then reconsidered and she shrugged. Quinn walked over to the dresser and picked it up, making a big production of not looking at it. She handed it to Rachel, who glanced at it and then tossed aside.

"Problem?" Quinn asked.

"Just...my people," she muttered. "And Finn."

"Hmmm," Quinn acknowledged, nodding. "Afraid I can't help with any of those...things."

Rachel gave her the first genuine smile of the morning.

"No, I suppose not," she said wistfully. She reached out and took Quinn's hand. "I'm glad you're here."

Quinn chuckled.

"I feel bad," she admitted.

"Don't, "Rachel insisted, now covering her mouth, trying to stifle a yawn. "It was my fault."

Yawing. That was a good sign. By her appearance, Quinn suspected Rachel been up most of the night.

The yawning continued and grew more frequent. It was soon obvious that Rachel was actively struggling to stay awake and Quinn saw this as her opportunity to exit gracefully.

"I'm gonna go," she said non-nonchalantly. "So you can rest."

Rachel's brow knitted immediately and her lower lip puffed out slightly. She didn't like it, but she didn't actively protest.

"Okay," she said reluctantly.

"Do you need me to get you anything before I go" she asked. Rachel just shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice distant and fragile.

Oh, don't do this, Quinn thought anxiously. Don't get all small and vulnerable and make it hard. Don't make me want to stay so I can crawl into bed with you and hold you while you sleep. Rachel rolled over and snuggled into her pillows, then looked at Quinn. She had her lower lip pinched in her teeth.

"I'll be okay," she insisted, trying to convince them both by the sound of it.

Quinn exhaled softly.

"I'll come back and check on you in a little while. Try and sleep." she told her. She deliberately put Rachel's cellphone within easy reach "Call me if you need anything. I mean it."

Again, a small sweet smile and Rachel nodded. She found Quinn's eyes and held her gaze, her bottomless brown eyes saying more than either of them was ready to hear. Impulsively, Quinn leaned down and kissed her on the forehead just as Rachel closed her eyes.

"Sweet dreams, chickadee," she told her softly.

Rachel was asleep by the time Quinn walked out her front door.

**=^..^=**

"Sweetie," Quinn said, staring down at the cat that was rubbing against her legs. "We have to stop meeting like this."

He looked up at her and meowed, then put his front paws up on her legs. He clearly wanted to be picked up.

"People who make my life harder don't get affection," she told him, shaking a finger at him. "No pets for you."

She scowled at him and growled, hoping to look fierce. He just chirped and nuzzled his head on her knee.

"Not too scary, huh?" she said, rolling her eyes at herself.

Clearly there was no point in putting the trap back. No doubt Sweetie would be back inside, settling down for a nosh and a nap, before she even got to the truck.

"Come on," she said crossly, picking up the trap and working her way back through the bramble. Sweetie fell obediently in step behind her, having a loud conversation with her the whole way. If she couldn't find Mr. Arnstein, she wondered how Rachel might feel about the big ginger cat? His owners clearly didn't think enough of him to keep him out of the wild.

By all indications, Quinn felt she was losing her mojo. So far she'd only succeeded in repeatedly catching the same pampered domestic, had wasted an entire morning playing "skunk the village idiot" and she was still being routinely outsmarted by what was likely a high-functioning rat. She felt scattered and distracted and disappointed in herself. On some level, maybe old Fizz wasn't too far off the mark when he insisted she was scamming Rachel.

She put the cage in the bed of the truck and lashed it down. She picked Sweetie up out of the middle of the street and carried him back to the edge of the trees. She opened a can of cat food and poured in out on the grass, then scrambled back to the truck while he ate.

"Bon appetite and bonne nuit," she wished him through the open window as she drove past him.

Her phone rang and she pulled it out of her pocket.

"Fabray," she said without looking.

"Hi," Rachel said, sounding much stronger.

"Hey, " Quinn said. "I was just on my way back over."

"Quinn..." Rachel said.

"Did you think anymore about going?" Quinn asked.

"Yes. I mean, yes, I'm going," she told her.

"Good, I'll come get you," Quinn said, turning into her complex. "Almost there in fact."

"Quinn, wait," Rachel said and Quinn frowned, her eyes narrowing. She rolled to a stop, staring at Rachel's driveway.

"Okay," she said, her voice noticeably cooler.

"Finn, he..." Rachel stammered. "He's..."

"Fine,okay," Quinn said sharply. "Glad you're feeling better."

"He just showed up, unannounced. I didn't know...," Rachel explained. She could tell Quinn wasn't pleased. She was painfully aware of the change in her voice - it went from warm and concerned to almost chilly.

"No worries," Quinn said. "I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

"Guess I'll have to be amazing on my own," Rachel said softly.

"You don't need anyone to help you do that," Quinn insisted, her tone softer, but not by much.

"You know how I like my rituals though," Rachel told her, hoping to change her tone.

"Uh huh, so you've mentioned." Quinn replied. "Oh well, you'll be fine. All that rabbit's foot stuff, it's just bullshit anyway."

Yeah, it was pretty mean and she regretted it, but it was too late. Rachel didn't say anything and that made it worse.

"I'll let you know...how it goes," Rachel said finally. "If you want."

"Sure," Quinn said.

" I guess I should go," Rachel said quietly.

"Yeah, okay," Quinn said, nodding absently. "Break a leg I guess."

"Thanks," Rachel answered.

"I don't like saying that," Quinn told her truthfully, chuckling. "It always seems...wrong. Like saying, 'Hey, fall down a flight of steps.' "

She heard a soft laugh and smiled.

"Be amazing, chickadee," she told her and hung up before she said something else snide and ruined it. She had to resist the urge to throw the phone out the window and tossed it onto the seat beside her instead.

**=^..^=**

She was supposed to meet Santana for lunch, but she just went back to the office instead. Brittany looked at her curiously when she breezed through the door, but didn't make a comment. She disappeared into her office and closed the door.

While her computer was wheezing to life she called Santana.

"Let me guess," Santana said immediately upon picking up the call. "You're blowing off lunch."

Brittany.

"Something like that, yeah," Quinn said, happy not to have to come up with some contrived excuse.

"Cheap ass, bitch. Normally this is where I'd get all indignant," she told her. "But since it's hella batshit crazy up in here today, I'm gonna cut you a break."

"Thanks, San. Want me to send B with lunch for you?" Quinn offered.

"Look at you, all sucking up and shit," she said with a laugh. "And hell yes!"

"Hang on," she said, relieved to see she was still in her good graces. "I'll transfer you up front."

"You still owe me lunch," Santana reminded her. "This doesn't count."

"I'll try and work you back in to my datebook," Quinn assured her.

"And I'm still waiting for you to bring Rachel to her senses," she pressed. "I'm serious, Q."

Quinn ignored her.

"Here's B," Quinn said, sending the call to Brittany's phone and hanging up at her end. Ten minutes later there was a soft knock on her door.

"Come in, B," Quinn said. Brittany opened the door.

"You're scary when you're psychic, " she said.

"I'm not either one – scary or psychic," Quinn insisted quietly. "What I am is exhausted. Are you off to bat-shit crazyville?"

"I don't know," she told her, tilting her head. "Is that somewhere around here?"

"Some days, yes, " Quinn said. "Never mind, sweetie. Go take San her food."

"Do you want me to bring you something?" she asked sweetly.

Quinn shook her head.

"No thanks," she told her. "If you want, you can take off after you see San. I'll get Puck to babysit the phone."

"Okay," she said brightly. "I can make an extra dance class."

"Good deal," Quinn said, happy that she was happy.

"Puck won't like it though," she said, her face scrunched up.

"Why not?" Quinn said. "I'm sure he's just trolling the web. He can do that from up front."

"No, he's got a friend in the back," Brittany told her and Quinn's eyes turned hard.

"Can I still go?" she asked timidly.

"Of course you can," Quinn told her. "I'll deal with Mr. Popularity."

"Yay," she said, giggling. "Hey Quinn?"

"Yes, B?" she asked. This probably wasn't going to be good.

"Did Rachel have fun last night?" she asked innocently.

"Um, I think so," Quinn said. "Safe to say she could have done without Monopoly though."

"That was Puck's idea," Brittany volunteered helpfully.

"Of course it was," Quinn replied. She'd already guess as much.

"Rachel's nice," Brittany said. "I like her."

"She is, Brit," Quinn agreed, not wanting to have this conversation. "San's probably hungry, hon."

"Yeah, I'll go now. She gets cranky if she's hungry," she agreed.

"She must be hungry all the time," Quinn muttered.

"No, just sometimes," Brittany corrected.

Quinn chuckled.

"Thanks Q," Brittany said again.

Quinn nodded and Brittany backed out, closing the door behind her.

Quinn waited for about ten minutes then forced herself to get up and go into the back to see what stray bimbo Noah had drug in. He wasn't in the storage room or out in the back parking lot and she groaned. That left the break room and it had a couch, a couch she wanted to sleep on.

Quinn growled.

Sure enough, the door was closed, the light was off and Quinn could hear faint noises coming from inside. She chuckled wickedly. Without hesitation, she banged the door open loudly and flipped the light on. The reaction was immediate and the end result satisfying. Puck was sprawled on his back on the floor, groaning, and the girl – a chesty redhead – pulled at her disheveled clothing.

"Oh my gosh," Quinn said innocently, staring down at Puck while trying not to laugh out loud. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize anyone was in here."

Puck flopped around like a flipped turtle before he finally managed to get to his feet.

"Damn, Q," he muttered. He might have said more but one withering glare from Quinn shut him up again.

"I need you to keep up with the phones," she told him, pointedly ignoring the elephant in slutty clothing in the room.

"Why?" he asked. "Where's Brittany?"

"She had stuff," Quinn told him, wondering how much he was going to whine before she got angry.

"Well I've got...stuff, too, " he said, his eyes flickering to the couch.

"Who is your friend, Pucky-Poo?" the girl asked in a baby-doll voice.

"Yeah, Pucky-Poo," Quinn said immediately. "Why don't you introduce me to your..."

"This is Lola," he said quickly, cutting Quinn off before she got a chance to finish. He couldn't risk what might come out of her mouth when she was like this. "Lola, this is Quinn. She runs the place."

Lola. Sure, that was par for the course. They always had cutesy, vaguely stripper-ish names like Lola or Candy or Ginger, sometimes Cookie or Pepper.

"Oh wow," Lola said, snapping gum that sudden materialized from god only knew where. "A chick boss. Coolness."

"Nice to meet you," Quinn said coldly, letting her eyes walk up and down. Lola was most definitely Puck's type – all about boobs, into brawn, and no doubt seriously light on brains.

"I'm charming, I'm sure," Lola told her, apparently desperate to prove Quinn's assessment correct. Puck groaned and Quinn's smiled tipped up into her eyes. This could be amusing.

"Likewise," Quinn answered.

She could feel Puck's eyes practically pleading with her to drop it.

"So Britt," he said, trying to distract Quinn. "She's gone?"

She finally looked away from Lola and back to him. The amused expression vanished.

"She had stuff," Quinn hissed again, daring him to say something else smart. "Babysit the front desk."

"Where are you going?" he whined.

"I'm going in my office and close the door, " she said. "Because I can do that. I run the place."

"Why can't you babysit the front?" he asked, pushing to the brink.

"Because I've got stuff," she told him.

"What stuff?" he asked because he never knew when to quit.

"So Lola," Quinn said, ignoring him and turning back to the vacuous redhead spilling cleavage down the front of her. "Where do you work?"

"I wait tables," she said amicably. "That's where I met Pucky-Poo. He tips so good."

"How nice, " Quinn said, acting fascinated. "Did he ever tell you about the time..."

"I think I hear the phone," Puck said suddenly. He grabbed Lola's hand, pulling her roughly past Quinn.

"Thanks Pucky-Poo," Quinn called after them.

"She's nice, " she heard Lola tell Puck.

Puck muttered something she couldn't hear.

"She's totally way hot, too," Lola added. "Maybe we could ask her to join..."

She heard Puck shushing her furiously and smirked.

Yeah, Pucky-Poo, she thought to herself. That's definitely one to take home to mother.

She walked back into her office, propped her feet on the desk, tipped her chair back and promptly fell asleep.

**=^..^=**

Puck was sitting in the family room watching television when Quinn came in.

"Hey tyrant," he said, not taking his eyes off the television.

Quinn walked by him without a word and went into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of juice and drank it in front of the sink, then left her glass. She walked back into the family room and stood, looking around. Puck rolled his eyes up at her.

"Sup?" he asked.

Still no answer from her.

"Hey," he said loudly, jerking his head when she finally looked in his direction. She moved toward him and he caught her hand.

"Come here," he urged, pulling her down into his lap. At first she resisted, but she ultimately relented and leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder.

"You hungry?" he asked, flipping channels again.

She shook her head.

"My treat," he told her. "I'll cook. Whatever you want."

"No thanks," she remarked with a sigh.

"Why so glum Fearless Leader?" he asked, nuzzling her head with his chin.

She shrugged.

"Why am I thinking it has to do with one small distraction with a very nice...resume?" he teased.

"Because you're a pervert asshole," Quinn said quietly.

"Uh huh," he smirked.

"Where's your new playmate?" Quinn asked, trying to change the subject.

"We rolled awhile and then she rolled, you know?" he said with a shrug. "Cause that's how I roll."

Quinn scoffed.

"Why can't I just do that?' she asked.

"You can. You have," he said, nudging her in the ribs. "Don't act like I don't know you."

"I guess," she said flatly.

He wasn't used to this morose, slug-like affect she was rocking at the moment and he hoped it was a temporary thing. He needed her to butt heads with him or life was looking pretty dull.

" Ain't no thing, for real. Just bang her, Q," he suggested. "Get it out of your system."

She sighed heavily.

"The only thing I'm gonna be banging is your head on the wall if you suggest that again," she warned and he saw her fist curl tightly.

He laughed. That was a little better – there was still a Quinn spark lit somewhere in all that angst.

"It was just a thought," he remarked. "I gotta get you laid so you'll quit beating the crap out of me. All that pent-up frustration has got me bruised and bloody."

She didn't actually smile, but her eyes did.

That was an interesting theory. Then again, Puck had a lot of interesting theories, most of them centered around video games.

He was rubbing his hand on her leg. Petting on Quinn was like petting on a cat. It could be all good one minute and the next you find yourself inexplicably torn and bleeding or worse, missing a finger. You had to be mindful at all times and read the cues with care. At the moment, she was taking it in the spirit in which it was intended – a genuine, albeit awkward, attempt at consolation.

"Tell her," he suggested, "Tell her how you feel, what you want."

She tensed up and he stopped moving his hand.

"That's stupid," she remarked, but only after thinking about it for a long minute.

"Oh well, thanks for the critique," he said, rolling his eyes. He squeezed her knee hard and she pinched him back.

"It's not that simple," she added, trying to buffer her harsh tone. However inept, she knew he was trying to make her feel better.

Here's where he had to weigh his options. Did he argue the point and risk repercussions or just concede?

"What's the worst that could happen?" he asked her seriously.

"Oh, I don't know." she said edging toward that tone. "She could say, "Thanks, but no thanks" or I could come across like a blithering, sappy idiot or maybe both. That would be fun. "

"Why is it everyone sees it but you?" he asked, shaking his head. "She likes you, Quinn. Hell, I think she maybe even more than likes you, but at the very least, she likes you. I know you don't speak girl very well, but asking for lucky kisses is, like, combat flirting."

"So what?" Quinn said, sitting up. She turned and stared at him. It was much easier to read her eyes. "She likes me. Maybe she even really, really likes me. Great. And that gets me exactly nothing because she still has this helium float tethered to her."

"So cut the string." he suggested, taking a page from the Santana Lopez playbook.

"I'm not going to do that," Quinn told him same as she told Santana.

"And if he goes away?" Puck asked, quirking his lips. "What then?"

She hated "what if" games.

"He isn't going away," she told him.

"Okay, but just, what if he did?" he pressed. "What if he suddenly wasn't in the picture. Then what?"

"I'm not playing this," she insisted.

"Come on, Q," he protested. "Just give me this. Say this Flynn guy, I don't know, say we unleash Satan on him and he suddenly gets an offer he can't refuse. Then what?"

"It's up to Rachel," Quinn said seriously.

"And say she's ringing the bell right now, in nothing but a trench coat and that killer smile. What then?" he asked, clearly hell-bent on getting some kind of answer.

"Under those circumstances, then I would say that it would be totally fucking on," Quinn confessed.

"Like Donkey Kong, baby," Puck finished. "It was the whole trench coat thing, wasn't it."

"No question, " Quinn agreed, still trying to get the image out of her head.

He held up his fist so she could bump with her own. She looked at it a minute then went as if to smack his head. He flinched slightly. She smirked and leaned in and kissed him on the chin.

"I'm going to bed," she said, chewing on her lip. "Thanks, asshole."

She rubbed her hand on his head and then climbed off his lap and wandered off down the hall.

"Yeah, you're welcome," he called after her. He started flipping the channels until he saw something that looked vaguely smutty and he paused. "I'm available 24/7, Monday through Friday. Weekends by appointment."

Mojo hopped up on his lap and looked at him quizzically.

"Your Mommy's got chick troubles, buddy," he told the frumpy cat, who was marching somewhat indelicately on his crotch. "She needs to be more like us, right buddy? Tom cat love, baby. We get our groove on and then bounce."

Mojo apparently agreed and started marching harder, his claws digging in.

"Hey, watch the stuff, fat man," he hissed, trying to nudge him over. Mojo growled and flattened his ears.

"Yeah, fine, fuck. Whatever, dude," Puck said, shrinking back away from him and Mojo happily went back to his kneading. Puck just gritted his teeth and hoped it ended soon.

"Am I the only sane one in this house?" he muttered to himself as Mojo curled into a purring ball. His phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket, careful not to poke the angry bear on his lap.

"Talk to me," he said by way of answering. "Yeah, yeah, okay, yeah, this is Pucky-Poo."

He listened and broke into an evil grin.

"So tell me more about this idea of yours and we'll see what comes...up."

**=^..^=**

**Day Nine**

*Check traps  
>*Change camera card<br>*Rachel?  
>*Crap left over from crappy yesterday<p>

"Hey you, you're really early today," Rachel said, coming up behind Quinn. She was out-of-breath and panting slightly and Quinn immediately wondered why.

Quinn was on her stomach on the grass working on re-baiting the crappy cat trap in Rachel's crappy back yard.

"Yeah, Noah had a date," she told her, still focused primarily wedging the door of the crappy bent trap closed and pushing it way back under the crappy shrub. She wiggled out and pushed herself up off the ground.

"Interesting," Rachel said, still winded.

"Not really, but she was still there at breakfast, " Quinn explained, her voice conveying her disgust with the situation. She dusted off her hands and wiped them down the back of her jeans, then whisked the dried grass off the front of her shirt. "I just didn't feel like socializing with Ms. Biker Boobs July over coffee and eggs so I made a break for it."

Rachel laughed.

"I can't really say that I blame you for that," she agreed.

Quinn turned and her mouth popped open.

Rachel was wearing shorts and a sleeveless tank top. Correction, Rachel was wearing very short-shorts and a very fitted sleeveless tank top. She was breathing hard and her face and chest were dotted with perspiration. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail, but tendrils pulled free in and spilled across her face.

Wow, she was certainly was... fit.

"Hi," she said brightly, her breath coming easier now. "I was... running. Trying to clear all the toxins from yesterday."

"I can see that," Quinn said, somewhere between majorly flustered and amused. "You look... "

Her brain locked up as she tried to think of some adjective for awesomely "I want to lick your neck" sweaty that didn't sound pervish, but she finally gave up.

"Out of breath," she offered weakly, stating the obvious. "Toxin-free?"

"Yeah," she laughed. "But I guess that's the point so it's worth the pain. Anyway, are you coming up?"

Rachel's eyes widened hopefully.

No, Quinn. No, you're not. It's a dead-end. You've decided to stop tormenting yourself.

Rachel was smiling at her, still impossibly adorable, eyes wide, looking fit and pure and... sigh, Rachel. Rachel with a boyfriend.

Shake your head. Now, right now. Do it!

Quinn nodded soundlessly.

"Great," Rachel said, her face glowing. "I'll leave the door unlocked for you."

"Okay," Quinn answered, still staring, gaping like a dumb fish.

"Awesome," Rachel said with a toothy smile and then she turned and ran off across the yard. It took Quinn a full five minutes before she realized she was still staring and Rachel was long gone from sight.

"Oh my god," she muttered.

So much for self control. So much for not tormenting herself. So much for...oh my god, the way her hair was...and those shorts.

Crap.

Quinn grunted in frustration then started toward the front door.

**=^..^=**

"What's that?" Rachel asked, setting a plate down in front of her. She pointed at the small flat media card next to Quinn's keys. Quinn was frowning and staring at her plate.

"Camera card," she said absently She picked up her fork and prodded daintily at the food on the plate, frowning. "What's...this?"

"Carrot Quiche," she told her. "Try it, it's good for you."

"Why are we eating this?" Quinn fussed, stabbing at it.

She was pretty sure she hadn't eaten yesterday and she was famished. Whatever this orange lumpy squick on her plate was couldn't possibly fix that.

"Toxins," Rachel said, as if that explained everything.

"I'm detoxed," Quinn told her, wrinkling her nose.

"Plus they told me I needed to lose ten pounds," Rachel murmured.

Quinn scoffed loudly.

"Are you fucking serious?" she asked, appalled. "Who the fuck?"

Rachel hemmed around, clearly not wanting to answer.

"Bullshit, " Quinn said, scooping up her keys and the camera card. "Come on."

"But...I need to clean up," Rachel protested.

"Leave it," Quinn spat. "Just leave it."

She grabbed Rachel's arm and pulled her to the door.

"Go...now," she told her and pushed her toward the stairs, closing the door behind them.

"I don't suppose you'll tell me where we're going now? " Rachel asked ten minutes later, looking out the window for landmarks.

"Nope," Quinn said.

"Well, if you insist on kidnapping me, the least you can do is fix the seat belt," Rachel said, holding the ends together across her lap. Quinn looked over at her. She pulled the truck over, then reached across and tied the two ends tightly across Rachel's waist.

"There," she said, adding a smug smile.

"Right," Rachel observed sarcastically. "Why didn't I think of that? I feel so much safer now."

Quinn grinned and Rachel just squinted at her as she eased the car back into traffic.

"You're looking for that food truck, aren't you?" Rachel asked, still staring at the seat-belt bow on her stomach.

"Maybe," Quinn admitted, shrugging lightly.

Rachel smiled proudly.

"Or maybe not," Quinn added, quirking her left brow. Rachel rolled her eyes at her.

"You just hate not knowing, don't you?" Quinn teased.

Rachel shrugged, feigning indifference, and looked out the window. Quinn chuckled and Rachel huffed.

"Whatever," she said, turning her shoulders.

Quinn laughed.

"Ah," she said and steered the truck off the road next to the cluster of food truck vendors.

Rachel grunted unhappily.

"Oh stop," Quinn scolded, poking her in the ribs. "Untie your seat belt. Come on, let's go!"

She clapped her hands together loudly. Rachel side-eyed her, then smiled.

"You are just..." she said, trying to fill in the blank.

"Perfect? Brilliant? The cat's meow?" Quinn suggested helpfully.

"A mean little fucker," Rachel said, still trying to undo the knot Quinn made. Finally she fell back against the seat, groaning and throwing up her hands. She looked up at Quinn and whined, eyes pleading.

"Say please," Quinn told her.

Rachel glared at her and folded her arms. Quinn leaned into her.

"Say, "Please Quinn, you're the cat's meow, " Quinn taunted.

Rachel was shaking – whether with laughter or fury, Quinn couldn't be certain. Quinn prodded her again.

"Say it," she coaxed.

Rachel slapped at her.

"Okay," Quinn said, opening her door. "See ya."

She got out and sauntered away. Rachel stared after her, mouth a cute little "oh" of surprise. Quinn stuck her tongue in her cheek and smirked. She walked up to the menu board and stared, pondering her selection. When she turned and glanced back. Rachel was hunched over, furiously trying to get herself free. Quinn sighed and walked back.

She tapped on the passenger window and Rachel rolled her eyes up at her. She didn't look amused.

Quinn pulled the door open.

"Cat's meow?" She asked, wiggling her eye brows.

"Not really, no, " Rachel answered.

"Mean little fucker?" Quinn tried again.

Rachel pursed her lips and rolled her eyes up dramatically, apparently considering the description.

"Mmmm," Rachel hummed.

Quinn put her face down close to Rachel's and Rachel's eyes held hers intently, then she looked down and patiently worked the webbing loose and pulled the knot free.

"All better, chickadee," she told her.

When she glanced up, Rachel smiled at her.

"Thank you," she said quietly, her breath hitting against Quinn's cheek.

She nodded, not taking her eyes away, letting them melt into Rachel's.

" Listen to me, Rachel Berry, " Quinn said firmly. "You're beautiful, just the way you are. Don't you ever let anyone tell you different. Not...anyone."

Rachel swallowed hard.

"Do you understand me?" Quinn asked.

Rachel's eyes flitted all around Quinn's face, like she was sketching it in her memory and wanted to keep every detail. Then she just nodded.

"So...I say screw the carrot quiche," Quinn said, smirking. "Let me fix you breakfast today, okay?"

"Sure," Rachel answered with a shy whisper.

Quinn held out her hand and Rachel took it, her fingers warm in Quinn's.

Rachel climbed out and Quinn shut the door. It promptly bounced open again. Quinn grunted and closed it again. It sprang right back open

Rachel snickered and Quinn smiled. She released Rachel's hand, gritted her teeth and slammed it. It stayed closed.

"Hah," Quinn said triumphantly. She reached down and took Rachel's hand again. They'd taken about five steps when they heard the window fall down inside the door frame.

Quinn closed her eyes and growled. Rachel just squeezed her fingers around her arm.

"I'm hungry," she told her. "Come on, Cat's Meow."

Quinn just let Rachel pull her along.

**=^..^=**

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Rachel said with her mouth full.

"Stop talking," Quinn said, trying to put her hand over mouth. Rachel twisted her head away.

"Stop that," she said, pushing Quinn's hand away. "Be nice."

Quinn shook her head.

"Yes," Rachel persisted. She pulled Quinn's plate away from her.

"Ohhh, little one," Quinn said, warning her. "You don't want to be playing that."

Rachel giggled and held the food away from her.

"Rachel," Quinn scolded again, grabbing for it. "Give me that."

Rachel shook her head and held the plate at arm's length.

"Only if you promise to be nice to me," she said again.

Quinn put both of her hands on the table and stared hard at her. Rachel tucked her lips in, looking nervous.

"Fine," Quinn said, rolling her eyes and Rachel visibly relaxed. "I'll behave."

Rachel smiled and slid Quinn's plate back over in front of her.

"I'm sorry about yesterday," Rachel said again and Quinn groaned. She leaned down started banging her head on the table. "Well, I am. It was... embarrassing."

Quinn raised her head.

"There was nothing embarrassing about it," Quinn said, shrugging. "It was... just...I felt helpless. I don't like that."

"Why?" Rachel said, confused. "You were so kind, It was just me, it was... I was stupid."

"It happens," Quinn said, stealing food off Rachel's plate. "A lot with my friends actually. Can we please just stop talking about it?"

"Yes," Rachel told her and Quinn breathed a sigh of relief. "If you'll answer one thing."

"Fuck," Quinn groaned. "What?"

"You can't lie," Rachel told her. "I'll know if you do."

Quinn laughed.

"What?" she repeated.

"Why were you so angry about Finn taking me to my audition?" Rachel asked slowly.

"I wasn't angry, " Quinn said quickly, dismissing the notion.

"I said you couldn't lie," Rachel protested.

"I'm not," Quinn answered, scowling. "Why would I care about that?"

"I don't know," Rachel fired back. "That's why I'm asking."

"I didn't, I wasn't," Quinn said, careful to keep her eyes on her plate. "Look, I was tired. I'm sorry if you thought I was angry. I wasn't. End of story."

She shrugged and looked up at her.

Rachel sighed, clearly disappointed with the answer she was getting.

"I want to talk about something else," Quinn said. "I want to talk to you about Santana."

Rachel's brow furrowed.

"What about her?" she asked, trying to follow Quinn's zig-zagging to steer the conversation to her liking.

"I want you to talk to her," Quinn explained. "Just have lunch with her or something and listen to what she has to say."

"Alright," Rachel said easily. "Sure, but why isn't she asking me herself?"

"Because I told her she couldn't, " Quinn admitted. "I want you to listen to what she has to say, but after that, it's all up to you. And I'm not involved. It's all between you and her, alright?"

"Okay," Rachel agreed amicably. "Should I call her?"

"I'll let her know," Quinn said, shaking her head. "She'll call you."

"Great, can't wait," Rachel said, smiling again. "You were right, you know."

"Of course I was," Quinn said smugly.

They ate in silence for several minutes.

"Alright, fine. About what?" Quinn asked, exasperated.

Rachel snickered.

"This is so much better than carrot quiche." she admitted.

Quinn smiled and watched as Rachel took a huge mouthful and chewed happily.

"I was afraid..." Quinn said hesitantly "I was afraid that they...your _people_...someone had talked you into going yesterday. That you really didn't want to and they...made you. That's why I was disappointed."

_Mostly_, Quinn admitted only to herself

"In me?" Rachel asked, her voice distant.

"Not really," Quinn assured her. "More in them."

"But a little in me?" Rachel kept at her.

"A little," Quinn reluctantly admitted.

"And if I say that it's true?" Rachel pressed. "Then what does that do to your opinion of me?"

"It doesn't change anything," Quinn told her truthfully.

"Not so awesome after all," Rachel murmured.

"You don't ever get to say that," Quinn snapped. "Not to me. That will make me angry."

Rachel smiled gently.

"Talk to Santana," Quinn told her again. "And stop believing what other people tell you. Listen here."

Quinn put a finger against Rachel's head and prodded.

"And here," she pushed her finger against Rachel's chest lightly.

"And here," she poked her in the belly and Rachel giggled.

"And you?" Rachel asked. "Do I listen to you?"

"Oh hell yes," Quinn told her, frowning. "Always."

"And why is that?" Rachel asked, teasing her. "What makes you different from the rest."

"Because I'm the cat's meow, chickadee, " Quinn told her with a sly wink. "Now hush and eat before it gets cold and we're back to carrot quiche again."

**=^..^=**


	9. Chapter 9: The Check is Good

A/N: This is actually half or 2/3 of what I have written, but I wanted to put something up so I'm splitting it. Hopefully I can finish and post the remainder sooner rather than later. Thanks so much for your sticking with this story and all your thoughts and comments. xo

Chapter 9:  
>The Check is Good<p>

"What are we looking at?" Puck asked, falling into the chair in Quinn's office. He put his boots up on the edge of her desk. Quinn was squinting intently at her computer screen with an unhappy expression on her face.

"A pain in the ass," Quinn said, not bothering to glance in his direction.

"What did I do now?" he fussed.

Quinn smiled.

"For once, I'm not talking about you," she told him. She sighed deeply in frustration and glanced in his direction.

"Get your filthy fucking shoes off my desk,"she scolded, frowning.

He rolled his eyes and pulled his feet back.

"Stop with the eye rolling, too." she added.

Despite her mostly pleasant morning, she found that everything since was pissing her off today and she figured Puck would last ten, fifteen minutes tops before they were in a knock-down/drag-out of some type over something. He was already off to a good start.

"And we're looking at what?" he asked again.

"Trail cam at Rachel's," she said, throwing a disgusted wave at her computer screen. "Goddamn thing is set too high. I can't see shit. This card is shit and that means the one in there now is shit, too."

They really needed to discuss the idea of a cuss jar in the office. It would keep them in beer easily.

"I told you that was a waste of time," he said.

"That sounds suspiciously like 'I told you,so,'" she said in a low serious tone. "I don't need to hear 'I told you so' today."

Her eyes shifted to the stapler by her hand. She didn't know whether she wanted to hurl it at him or start tattooing his head with it. He followed her gaze and tensed measurably.

"I just mean, it's hard, that's all," he said quickly. "Look, give me the card. I'll go pull the other and adjust it for you."

She pulled out Rachel's file so she could update her notes. She saw immediately upon opening it that there was a check paper-clipped to it. It had the current date written in Rachel's distinctive scrawl.

"What the...?" Quinn stammered, scowling. "Brittany!"

"Go light there, Q," Puck muttered. The last thing they needed was Santana stomping around like an ass-chapped bull.

"Hi," Brittany said, smiling like Quinn had just come in even though she'd been in her office for more than an hour.

Quinn peeled the check off and held it up.

"Where the hell did this come from?" she fumed, shaking it.

"Um, it came from Rachel," Brittany said, unsure why Quinn couldn't figure that out for herself. She was usually mush smarter than that.

Quinn looked helplessly at Puck, who smirked.

"B, darling, I know it is from Rachel," she said, her tone much cooler. "How did you get it?"

Brittany glanced nervously at Puck before she answered.

"Rachel gave it to me," she said slowly, waiting to see if that was the right answer.

Quinn's fists closed

"Mother..." she said quietly.

"Q," Puck said, holding up his hand. "Let me."

"Brit, baby," he said, smiling. "Tell us about Rachel giving you this.?"

She glanced cautiously at Quinn.

"It's okay, Brit," Quinn said. "Just talk."

"Rachel came in and gave it to me this morning just before lunchtime," Brittany explained, slowly to see if that would help. "She said she knew you probably wouldn't take it and so she was bringing it to me instead."

She glanced back and forth to see their reaction before she continued.

"Then we talked a little bit and she said to cash it even if you pitched a fit about it and she left," she added.

"Cool, thanks, B," Puck said quickly. He jumped up and started hustling her out the door.

"What did you talk about?" Quinn asked suddenly, apparently just realizing what that meant.

Puck kept nudging her out the door.

"Go, Brit," he whispered insistently. "Just go."

She frowned at Puck.

"Santana," she called over her shoulder. "She asked about Santana."

"Oh, okay," Quinn said, nodding. "You can talk about Santana til Rachel's ears fall of."

"Good, now shoo, scat," Puck urged.

"Stop pushing me," Brittany said, her brow furrowed hard.

"Then walk," Puck retorted. "Before you step in something."

"And you," she added quickly, then glared at Puck, shoved him hard in the shoulder and went back toward her desk.

"Fuck," he muttered, his head against the wall.

Quinn flailed dramatically and swore under her breath. Puck came back in mid-rant, rubbing his shoulder.

"Let it go, Quinn," he said, falling back into the chair.

"What is it going to take?" she fumed. "To get through Brittany's head not to do that?"

"Do you really want to have that discussion?" he asked.

"Fine. What's it going to take to get through Rachel's head?" Quinn asked instead. "I don't want to keep taking her money."

"Rachel is going to do what she wants," Puck said, trying to reason with her. "If she wants to give us money, let her. She's already said she won't let you work for nothing."

"It feels...wrong," she said.

She ejected the media card and sent it skittering across her cluttered desktop.

"Hey," he said, leaning down on her desk. "It's pretty obvious to anyone with an ounce of sense that you're seriously looking for that stupid cat. I don't see what the problem is here. You aren't doing anything wrong."

She didn't say anything.

He paused and watched her, his eyes working.

"But you want to, don't you?" he asked quietly. "That's where this is all coming from. It's getting harder."

"This is just so stupid," she hissed. "I don't need this crap."

She rolled her eyes up at him and he just nodded.

"What about her?" he asked. "What does she want?"

She didn't answer him.

"Maybe she needs to stop teasing you," he said, knowing it would probably start a fire.

"She's not...get the fuck out," she said, her eyes iced over.

"Quinn," he said quietly. "She has to know. You don't do subtle when it comes to things you're serious about."

"I...just...need to... find this cat," she said flatly, pointedly ignoring his question. "Find the cat. Case over, problem gone. Simple as that."

He scoffed loudly.

"Oh right," he sneered, "Keep telling yourself that fairytale and maybe you'll actually start to believe it."

"Believe it," she said emphatically. "I just need space. I can't...not...with her around all the time."

"And if you can't find it? What then?" he asked. "Why can't you just tell her you tried but no luck? So sorry and be done with it?"

She rolled her eyes as if that whole notion was utterly ridiculous.

"I can't do that to her," she said. "I have to at least try. I owe her that."

"You've tried, Quinn," he pointed out. "It's been almost two weeks."

She hated when people did the math.

"I'm not giving up," she said adamantly. "I'll know when and I'm not there yet."

He searched around on the mess on her desk and found the media card and slipped in into his pocket.

"Fine," he said loudly, clapping his hands. "While you're pondering some new ridiculous excuse for all that, I'll go take care of this for you," he told her.

She glared up at him and looked away. He walked out and climbed into his truck. He turned to back out and noticed the passenger window open. He reached across to roll it up when he realized that it wasn't just open, it was... gone.

"Quinn!" he yelled out loud, despite the fact she couldn't possibly hear him. "What the fuck?"

Quinn had tried to fix the window after breakfast, but she had gotten frustrated and pulled on it too hard, shattering it completely. That prompted a stomping, kicking, swearing fit on her part while Rachel stood by and and chewed on her lips, mostly amused.

When Quinn had finally calmed down, Rachel took her hands and turned them over carefully, looking to make certain she wasn't cut. Then she helped her clean up the broken glass out of the passenger seat and off the ground. Once that was done she got back in the cab and waited patiently while Quinn tied her back into her seat belt again.

Once they got back to Rachel's Quinn insisted on going inside and helping her clear off the breakfast dishes they'd left outside. She made it a point to mention to Rachel that not even the birds had eaten the carrot quiche they'd left sitting outside.

"See," she said. "They know."

"You didn't even try it," Rachel said, shaking her head. "It's actually quite good."

Quinn made a face.

"I don't need to, " Quinn insisted. "Just like you don't need to lose weight. In fact, I won't speak to you if you do."

"Really?" Rachel said, putting the dishes on the carrying tray. "You'll quit talking to me."

"Yes," Quinn said, nodding firmly.

"How could you tell?" she asked, cutting her eyes over at Quinn.

Quinn didn't want to admit she would definitely notice if Rachel's ass suddenly got smaller, or her thighs thinner or her stomach flatter.

"I just could," Quinn assured her, letting her eyes graze over her quickly. "I'm very good with spatial relations."

Rachel chuckled.

"I"m sure you are," she replied.

When she left, while they lingered in the doorway Rachel hugged her, much the same way she'd hugged Puck in her office that day.

"Thank you," she said almost shyly. "I feel much better about, you know, things."

Quinn nodded and smiled.

She prodded her in the ribs with her index finger.

"Carbs," she told her, teasing. She added a second light jab to her stomach.

Rachel slapped at her hand, then grabbed on and held it.

_Ah, crap_, Quinn said to herself.

"Really, I do." she said, her eyes holding Quinn's.

"I'm glad," Quinn said, smiling easily and squeezing her fingers.

If they were anything more than just friends this is where there would be a kiss. A real kiss. In her mind, Quinn could very easily envision pulling Rachel into her and finding the little brunette's upturned mouth with her own. In fact, the mental picture was so vivid, so clear it made her heartbeat skip.

"Gotta go, " Quinn stammered, her voice cracking.

Rachel just nodded.

"See ya, chickadee," she said with an uneasy smile, pulling her hand away. She moved quickly out the door. She didn't want to look back and see Rachel's expression. Whatever it was – wistful, confused, hurt, disappointed – she didn't want to feel responsible for it.

"Hit it and quit it," she could hear Puck saying it in her head as she walked quickly back to the truck. Maybe he wasn't so crazy after all. Maybe she should just turn around and bang on the door and just go for it. Hell, she might even still be standing there right this minute, watching her. She did that sometimes. She could just take her without a single word.

Quinn wondered if Rachel would let her. If she'd just surrender herself to Quinn's will and let her have her way with her? And if she did, would she just lay back and be completely overwhelmed or would she give back as good as she was getting?

God, why was she even thinking about this?

Quinn got behind the wheel and closed the door. For a moment, she groaned out loud. She felt like banging her head on the steering wheel but she was afraid Rachel might still be watching. She forced her mind to focus enough to start the truck and back down the driveway. She stepped on the gas and literally burned rubber driving away.

If she's looked in the rear view mirror she would have seen Rachel was indeed still watching her. She was puzzled by Quinn's suddenly pulling away from her and even more disturbed when she heard the tires squeal on the pavement. Had she done or said something wrong? She walked back over their last conversation in her mind and she couldn't see anything that might have set her off. Maybe she shouldn't have hugged her. Maybe she shouldn't have held her hand. She knew Quinn was sometimes anxious about such things, but she didn't seem particularly concerned earlier. In fact, she held Rachel's hand several times when they were at breakfast – crossing the road, pulling her to and fro. She poked and teased pretty easily as well, practically right up until the time she left, in fact.

Rachel sighed and shook her head, confused. Sometimes she felt so comfortable with Quinn and other times she didn't know what to say so she didn't say anything and let Quinn do all the talking. Either way, there was no denying how much she enjoyed just being in her company. She didn't want to risk doing anything that might jeopardize that.

**=^..^=**

Puck saw immediately that Quinn's camera position was a nightmare. The makeshift mount was functional, but it was too high. He tweaked the lens down as far as he could, but it was still just grazing the top of the trap. He decided it would be easier to try and raise the trap up than redo the camera mounting. That was a gamble though. Whatever was coming around might avoid the trap if it was moved and more visible. Still, it was a better gambit than what they'd been working with.

He'd see about collecting scrap lumber, bricks and cinder block to build a make-shift platform and a ramp and he probably had an old tarp in his truck he could use to cover it and make it more appealing. He decided to check before he started the whole process.

All this fuss for what he was sure was a rat.

He was walking out of the enclosure when he walked right up on Rachel. His guess was she had spied the truck and was lurking around hoping to find Quinn.

"Oh, Noah," she said, nearly colliding with him. "Hello."

She tried but couldn't quite manage to hide the disappointment in her tone.

"Hey Rach," he said, smirking. "What's up, Mama?"

"I was driving past and I saw the truck," she said, pointing over her shoulder.

"Yeah, it's kind of unique," he teased. "An American classic. It would be nice if Quinn would quit beating the crap out of it. I see she somehow managed to jam up the window today. "

"Um, yeah," she admitted with a weak laugh. "That was Quinn. She tried to fix it and got... frustrated."

"I know all about Quinn's frustrated temper tantrums," he said rolling his eyes. So Rachel was **with** Quinn when it happened. Interesting.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, peering over his shoulder, trying to look around him. He smirked slightly. Apparently she was still hopeful Quinn might be there.

"Fixing the trail cam Quinn set out," he said, holding up the tablet he had been using to view the camera. "Geek tweak errand boy duties."

Rachel nodded like she understood him, but she really hadn't the vaguest idea what he was talking about.

"So Quinn must be busy with something then?" she asked lightly.

He shrugged.

"No doubt she's up to something," he said, "She usually is."

"Really?" Rachel said, looking disconcerted. "She doesn't really seem the mischief sort actually."

"That's one think you'll learn about Q," he said, rummaging through the cargo hold in the truck. "She's got, like, layers. Just when you think you've got her figured out, another one comes up and then you don't."

"I'm learning that," she said quietly.

"Yeah, Quinn's an enigma. Hah," he said, pulling out a rolled tarp. "Just like the Spanx."

"Sphink, it's Sphinx," she corrected, nodding.

"Yeah, sorry about that," he said, sniffing himself and wrinkling his nose. "I've been rooting around that garbage back there. I can't smell too great."

Rachel laughed.

"No, the Sphinx," she repeated, "You know, the Egyptian statue, body of a lion, head of a woman; riddle. It's called the Sphinx."

"Ah, yeah, okay," he muttered.

Too many details. Just nod, smile, chicks like it when they think you're listening to them.

"And that's a pretty apt description," Rachel added. "Quinn keeps to her own counsel."

First she was telling him he smelled and now she was talking about lawyers and shit. Quinn was right about this girl needing an instruction manual. Glad he dodged that bullet.

Maybe it was because he was still pissed about the truck window or maybe it was out of some misguided concerned, but Puck ignored his own self-preservation instincts and acknowledged the large gray object in the room.

"So like what exactly is up with you and that Fig guy?" he asked out of the blue.

"Finn," Rachel corrected, but with a small smile. "His name is actually Finn. Quinn just... she keeps... his name is Finn."

"Fig, Schmig, Flynn, whatever," Puck said, "What's the story there?"

"The story?" Rachel asked, lost in her thoughts.

Why hadn't Quinn come back herself? Did it have something to do with what happened earlier? Or the check – maybe it was about the check.

"So are you together?" he asked.

"Um, yes," she answered on auto-pilot, nodding absently. "We are. We've been dating for quite a while."

Wait, what? Why was he asking about this? Was Puck hitting on her?

"And all this business with Quinn?" he asked, watching for her reaction.

"Business?" Rachel remarked, frowning and looking at him.

"Yeah, you know what I mean," he said. "You two seem like you're suddenly way...close."

The way he said it, the tone, the look on his face, there was no mistaking what he was really asking. Still, her relationship with Quinn wasn't something she couldn't easily explain. She wasn't even sure that she wanted to try, and particularly not with Puck of all people. Whatever their relationship was, Rachel wasn't about to give up her true feelings in this conversation so she downplayed the whole thing.

"I like Quinn, very much," she said, nodding. "I consider her a friend. I hope that she thinks of me the same way."

"Uh huh. A friend?" he said wryly. "Friends who giggle and tickle and...stuff?"

"I'm not really sure I know what you mean by that," she said, tilting her head and looking at him earnestly.

She was hoping to put him off his footing and just end the conversation. It shouldn't be that difficult; she was an actress after all,

Puck now found himself feeling conflicted and a bit confused. Was she being deliberately coy or was she seriously that unaware of what was apparent to everyone else. Or worse, was she just playing games with everyone, Quinn in particular? She certainly didn't seem the type, but anything was possible.

A huge part of him wanted to grab her and shake her and say, "Wake the fuck up, little girl. Can't you see Quinn is crazy about you? Dump the douche bag already."

Whatever her motives, he realized that it was very likely he had already tumbled himself in a giant vat of excrement since she would no doubt go right to Quinn with this entire conversation and he needed to cut his losses while he could. That meant accepting what she told him, however ridiculous, and dropping the whole damn thing.

His sudden anxious, befuddled expression made Rachel take pity on him. She was pretty sure he was acting out of concern for Quinn, perhaps a little honesty was called for after all.

"Look Noah," she said emphatically. " I know she's your friend and I know that you're being... protective. Trust me when I tell you that Quinn is very special to me. I care about her a great deal."

He grunted.

That sounded sufficiently vague – maybe Quinn wasn't swinging at wild pitches after all.

Chicks made everything so damn difficult.

"Well, I gotta get back to this," he said, pointing over his shoulder.

"Sure, sure," she nodded. "Nice to see you."

"Yeah, you, too, " he said.

He turned to go and she turned back toward her car. She stopped suddenly.

"Puck?" she called.

He stepped back out of the dumpster enclosure.

"Yeah, sweetie?" he said.

"Is Quinn upset with me about something?" she asked.

Oh Christ, he groaned inwardly. Chick games.

"I don't know, Rachel," he told her. "Why, did you do something?"

Like flirt and tease her to distraction?

"I, I, I don't think so," she said, her eyes flitting back and forth, racking her memory. The hurt and confused look on her face made Puck rethink his taunting. "I did leave a check with Brittany."

He nodded.

"Yeah, that came up," he admitted.

"And?" she asked timidly.

"Not happy," he confessed. "But dealing with it last I saw."

"Oh," Rachel replied, quirking her mouth sideways. "I wish she wouldn't get so upset by that."

"Don't worry about it, Rachel," he told her. "She's not mad at you."

"Are you sure?" she asked. "She was acting kind of strange when she left this morning."

She instantly wished she hadn't told him that. In fact, she was really wishing she hadn't even brought it up at all, but it was too late to take it back now.

"She's as weird as she always is," he said. "I can't tell any difference. She's been a total..."

He saw Rachel's face and stopped talking.

"She's just bitchy today," he remarked. "Ignore it, don't worry about it. It doesn't have anything to do with you giving Brittany a check."

"I hope you're right," she said, giving him a small, unsure smile.

"I usually am," he said smugly.

She chuckled knowing full well the opposite was probably the case.

"Thanks, Noah," she said.

"Sure thing, kiddo," he told her. "Anytime. "

She turned and walked back to her car. He watched her pull away and start out of the complex.

**=^..^=**

Quinn was still updating her files when Santana sauntered in and dropped down in front of her. Apparently her office was some sort of way station for office visitors. Maybe they could invite in some random homeless people, too.

"I got a phone call today," Santana said with a sing-song tone. "I've got a lunch date this week."

"Thrilled." Quinn said remotely without looking up, her voice a dead monotone. "Seriously. I'm so excited I may pee."

Santana smirked.

"You done good, Q, " she added, putting both hands on her desk, drumming them obnoxiously and leaning in for effect. "This is gonna happen. I can feel it."

Quinn finished the file she was working on, closed it and pushed it aside. She looked up at Santana, then leaned back into her chair, rocking slightly.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Quinn started, her fingertips propped together in front of her. "But don't make me regret this."

Santana scoffed.

"I'm dead serious, San," she continued. "All kidding aside, don't fuck this up. No offense."

"And how could I possibly be offended by that?" she remarked bitterly. "It's so nurturing and supportive. A veritable warm hug. "

"For real, you know what I'm talking about," Quinn pressed, a small smile on her lips. "You have this... way, this thing you do. People just follow you. Just keep one foot grounded on Earth. Don't make a bunch of hot-air balloon promises you can't keep."

"Hot-air ballo...hey," she said, now sounding more than a little annoyed. "It's not like I've got anything at stake here or anything, right?"

"Come on, I know you do," Quinn acknowledged. "I know that probably better than anyone. You've been working so hard for this, but so has she. Don't make me a dream-slayer here."

"So how about a little fucking faith for the home team here, Quinn?" she snapped. "In me, in her. Bottom line: if she wins, I win. That's how the game works. I'm not looking to screw her over. "

"I know, I know," Quinn said, backing off. "She's just so..."

"Stupid?" Santana suggested. "Clueless, blind?"

Quinn scowled fiercely and growled.

"Trusting," she hissed. "Very trusting."

"And you're apparently now her goddamn stage mother," Santana said. "I'll have to banish your annoying ass right off the bat."

"Shut up," she said, rolling her eyes.

"Rachel's no one's fool and she's not as innocent and naive as you seem to think, Quinn," she said with a hard roll of her eyes. "She's navigated her way through all this up until now. She's made some right moves to get as far as she has. Damn, you've got serious hero issues going on with this girl."

"I don't have anything going on. I just don't want..." she trailed off, tryinh to gather her thoughts. "I don't want to be pulled into the middle. I don't want a situation where I'm having to butt heads with you about all this."

"And why would you ever have to do that?" Quinn asked with feigned innocence.

"I just don't want to," Quinn repeated.

"Bullshit, just admit it. Meaning like if you get with her." Santana asked, trying to find Quinn's motives.

Quinn sighed heavily.

"Meaning like if I'm her friend who cares about her, " she corrected. "I just need to know we're kind of on the same page so I can walk away with some peace of mind and not have to ask about it. So to that end, what are you gonna tell her?" What's your first advice?"

Santana stared hard at her. She was starting to have second doubts about this. Not because of Rachel, but because of Quinn. If this was going to make her freaking nuts it might not be worth the effort. She need Quinn in her life more than she need Rachel. She could find another Rachel, probably. Maybe.

"A little clarification, please," she asked. Quinn was obviously fishing for something and Santana didn't feel like playing along. "Help me out here. It's been a long day."

"Her looks, for example," she said randomly. "What are you gonna tell her?"

Santana narrowed her eyes at her.

"Are we talking about Rachel's nose? " she asked.

"We fucking better not be," Quinn said bristling defensively, scowling hard. This was exactly where she didn't want to go with this conversation.

"Lighten up," Santana said, holding her hands up in submission. "Just trying to identify the flavor of fucking crazy you're dishing out right now. And let me clue you in right now, Miss Pollyanna Purebread. That's not something Rachel hasn't heard before, I guarantee it: Fix your nose, your boobs are too small, you're not quite what we had in mind, your voice is a tad too..."

"They told her to lose weight, alright?" Quinn interrupted, trying to stop Santana's list before she got seriously pissed off. "Okay. I just think that's fucking nuts and, even more, I hate that she listened to them. I fucking hate it. Being healthy is one thing, but that's...fuck, it makes me want to feed her cookies until she explodes just to spite them."

Santana laughed and seemed relieved.

"Good god, Quinn. They all say that," she insisted. "It's what they go to when they don't know how to fix things. Everyone tells men to get hair plugs, hit the gym, they tell women to get bigger boobs and _everyone_ needs to lose ten pounds. It's a bullshit line; a sugar pill. "

"She's just fine the way she is," Quinn insisted.

Says the pretty, pretty blonde girl, Santana thought instantly, but kept to herself. She just smiled at her instead.

"You are just... so...listen to me, Rachel needs polishing, she needs tweaking, she needs to get a little edgy, but that's all I'd tell her, " she said, trying to reassure Quinn. "Mostly she just needs to find her confidence again. She needs some focus. Some classes. Some direction. Running around auditioning for anything and everything is like beating her head against the wall. She needs to find projects that suit her. Maybe even create projects that suit her. Most of all, my dear Quinn, she needs people who seriously believe in her so she can just be herself. She's trying too hard to be like everyone else. That's not playing to her strengths."

Quinn nodded, visibly relieved. She so wanted to hug Santana. It was obvious to her now that she got it. She saw the same things Quinn saw and she wasn't interested in changing Rachel to fit anyone else's mold.

"From what I can tell," Santana added. "She's already doing pretty well in that respect, former-head-cheerleader-wise."

The corners of Quinn's mouth quirked up slightly.

"So now, shut the fuck up and let me do my thing," she scolded. "Just worry about your own shit. Don't you have some wayward guinea pig or lost pigeon or something to obsess about? Maybe you should go home and try and tame that bat-shit feral cat that lives in your house. It's a goddamn menace to society."

"You're a menace to society," Quinn countered.

"Careful," Santana threatened without a trace of malice. "I ain't Puck. I'll smack a bitch."

Quinn laughed softly.

"I'm taking B and escaping from this boring hell-hole, shall I rescue you as well?" she offered.

Quinn shook her head.

"I'm good," she told her, smiling. "But thanks."

"Well, your loss," she told her, standing up. "Maybe we'll come over later and harass you and eat up all your food."

"There's no beer," Quinn informed her."I'm just telling you up front and I don't plan on stopping either."

"Tell Fuckerman to get on that," Santana said. "Surely it's his turn anyway. Annoying useless sponge. He and his latest dimbo probably drank the last of it. Is she still sleezing about?"

Quinn shrugged.

"She wasn't there when I went to bed last night but she was there at breakfast," she told her. "That's already longer than most of them last. I didn't stick around to find out their social schedule. I'm sort-of surprised to see him today."

Santana chuckled wickedly.

"Yeah, I think we'll make a point to stop by, " she said, eyes flashing. "I need to meet the skank-du-jour. I can't believe you trust leaving them alone in your house."

"I try not to think about it," Quinn admitted. "Thanks for pointing it out though."

"Pleasure," Santana said, smirking. "Anything to help out. We're gonna roll out. Call if you change your mind."

Quinn just nodded and gave a wave.

"B, get your stuff, baby, we're going," Santana called and ducked out the office door. "Quinn's being anti-social. She won't come with us."

Quinn could hear Brittany trying to convince Santana to let her talk to Quinn.

"I want to talk to her," Brittany insisted.

"No, sweetie," Santana said firmly. "Just let her be. She's got her stuff, we've got ours."

"But I want to tell her something," she protested.

"You can tell her later," Santana remarked. "Maybe we'll see her later."

"I think she's mad at me," Brittany fussed.

"Quinn are you mad at Brittany?" Santana yelled loudly down the hall.

"No," Quinn yelled back.

"See, honey, she's fine," Santana reassured her. "Come on, I've got to go back by the office before we go."

Quinn heard Brittany scoff loudly and whine.

"That's not fair," she protested.

"Life isn't fair, " Santana pointed out reasonably. "Get use to it. Is that yours, too? No, I'll get it. Door, B, door. Later, Quinn."

Quinn heard scuffling and fussing and then the door hissing closed and there was only silence. She glanced at the office phone and realized she was the only one there to answer it. She immediately switched it over to voice mail. Anyone that really needed her would call her cell phone. Anyone else could leave a message and she'd deal with it accordingly. She wasn't feeling terribly customer-friendly today anyway.

She rifled around on her desk looking for something to kill another two hours until she could lock the doors. She didn't feel much like going home either. Maybe she'd go to a movie. She started surfing the Web to see if anything struck her fancy.

**=^..^=**

Rachel walked into the restaurant and looked over the crowd. She was about to approach the hostess station when she saw Finn waving at her and smiling. She nodded to the hostess and then made her way over to the table he had secured for them.

He stood up when she got closer.

"Hello Finn," she said softly when she reached their table.

"Hi," he said, greeting her warmly and leaning in for a quick kiss. He had too much Chapstick on his lips and she discretely brushed some off with her fingertip.

He clumsily pulled the chair out for her and she sat down. He pushed her closer, practically shoving her underneath the table.

"Finn," she said patiently. "Thank you, that's good." She moved back to a comfortable distance while he returned to his own seat.

"I'm happy to see you," he said, handing her a menu.

The last time they'd gone to dinner together they'd fought and Rachel went straight home after. He was hoping that didn't happen again.

"Me, too," she echoed dutifully. "But I just saw you. You took me to my audition, remember?"

"Sure, but that was, like, a work thing. We hardly ever just go out, you know, for fun anymore," he said, looking over his own menu, brow knitted intently in deep concentration. "I miss it."

"I suppose," Rachel said half-heartedly. "I will admit I do like it once in awhile."

Rachel was not a big partier and going to dinner or a movie was about as much excitement as she craved most evenings. Finn, however, was raised in the Young Hollywood tradition and loved its many perks, including access to an endless stream of parties and clubs. He used to whine incessantly when Rachel wouldn't accompany him, badgering her that it was all about making connections and not drinking and drugging it up like everyone thought. She never bought into that nonsense and held her ground. He eventually gave up and accepted the fact that they had different social sets and agendas and he would need to adapt to hers if he wanted to be with her.

He took the menu out of her hands and she frowned.

"I'll order for both of us," he said.

She looked reluctant.

"I'm perfectly capable of ordering for myself, Finn," she protested.

"I know you are, sweetie," he said, placating her. "But it's just a guy thing."

Rachel sighed and rolled her eyes, biting back her comments.

"Fine," she said sharply.

"Are you mad at me?" he asked, noticing her annoyance.

"No," she replied in the same clipped tones. "I'm fine. Everything's... fine."

"Guess what? My dad says I should bring you to the house this weekend," he told her, smiling like a cat who'd eaten a canary. "He's having a party. He thinks you could meet some people."

"Why would he... I mean, he's never...we don't," Rachel stammered, reaching for her water. She sipped it slowly, mulling this new development over carefully. "This is your idea, isn't it?"

"Well, I suggested it," he admitted, "But he was all for it."

"He wants me to go so you'll come," she said, already figuring out all the angles. There were always angles whenever Finn's father was involved. "Thank you, really, but I'm sure I'm already busy this weekend."

If she wasn't already she soon would be.

"Come on, Rach," he said sweetly, taking her hand in his. "Don't be like this. It will be fun. We can just hang out together. Do the pool, ride horses. Maybe sneak into my room."

He tickled his finger in the middle of her palm. That usually made her laugh. Today she didn't even crack a smile.

"I don't want to sneak anywhere," she told him honestly. "I have an apartment. You have an apartment. I don't need to sneak around to have sex with you. I don't care what your father thinks about it."

She could see him getting that vaguely befuddled look he got when he didn't know what to think about something. At one point she had found it endearing. At one point she actually believed in the tooth fairy as well. Before he could say something and make things worse, the waiter approached to take their order.

With a ridiculously proud look on his face he ordered himself a surf and turf plate, a salad, baked potato with all the fixings and some other side dish she didn't hear.

"And she'll have a salad with some of that raspberry-type dressing, on the side," he said and then handed the waiter both menus.

Rachel closed her eyes and her lips tightened into an angry line. She took a deep, cleansing breath before opening them again.

"Excuse me," she said loudly, catching the waiter before he could get away.

"Yes, Miss?" he asked politely.

"May I," she said, pointing toward the menus he had tucked under his arm.

"Yes, absolutely," he told her, handing her one.

She quickly scanned the selections, the tip of her tongue trapped visibly between her front teeth.

"I think I'll have the grilled vegetable salad, then the roasted halibut with mint and pea couscous," she told him, pausing to let him write it down, then she handed him the menu back. "We'll also look at the dessert menu later with coffee."

"Very good, Miss," he told her with a smile and went off to turn in their orders.

"I thought you were on a diet, " Finn said in hushed tones. "Because of...you know."

"Finn," she said evenly. "I'm not. I'm not going to starve myself because I don't need to. I'm perfectly fit."

"You heard what Ian said," he pressed. "He said..."

"Yes, I did, " she agreed. "I heard every word. I took it under advisement and after careful consideration, I've decided Ian can blow it out his ass."

Finn looked around to see if anyone heard what she said. The walls in these places had ears everywhere.

To further illustrate her point, Rachel reached into the bread basket and pulled out a slice of bread. She dunked it in the olive oil they offered to go with it and took a huge bite.

"There, that's my response," she said, her mouth full. "That's what I have to say to any other stupid comments you care to make on this subject. I suggest you eat some of this otherwise I may finish it myself. It's very good."

She took another bite and chewed with relish. She couldn't help but smile a little thinking how proud Quinn might be if she could see her. To that end, she pulled out her cell phone, clicked a picture of her bread with an obvious bite mark out of it and then texted it to Quinn's number with the comment: Carbs.

"What was that all about?" Finn asked, still smarting from her handing him his balls on a plate. .

"Just a note to a friend," she said without further explanation.

"You mean, Quinn," he said, scowling.

"Alright, yes," she admitted with a shrug. "I mean Quinn."

"I don't like her," he said.

"I don't care," she responded without a single moment's hesitation. This was not a new conversation. "I do. I think she's..."

She couldn't find the perfect word. All she could do was smile and Finn found that even more vexing.

"This is her doing," he observed, leaning back so the waiter could put his salad in front of him. "I should have known. She's a bad influence on you, Rach."

The waiter placed her salad in front of her. She smiled at him and said, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Miss," he replied with a smile.

"Did you hear what I said?" Finn asked, his tone preachy and scolding.

"Of course, I did," she said, spearing an artichoke heart with her fork. "I'm just ignoring it."

"Why?" he asked, picking through his salad to pull out the things he didn't like. She took the cherry tomatoes immediately.

"Because, again, I don't care, Finn," she told him. "I like Quinn. I have fun when I'm with Quinn. Quinn listens to me. Quinn doesn't make me feel back about myself."

"Are you implicating that I do?" he asked.

Quinn doesn't use wrong words. Or she does, but at least she does it on purpose.

"Yes, Finn," she said, honestly, covering her mouth. "Sometimes you do. You can be very belittling at times."

She knew from the look that it was a mistake to use that word.

"But you are...so tiny," he argued.

"You hurt my feelings, Finn," she said, cutting him off. "Whether you mean to or not, you do it a lot."

"I don't mean to," he said, his voice small. He looked lost and rather helpless. He pushed his plate away from him.

"Finn," she said, pushing his salad back in front of him. "Eat your salad. I know you don't mean to. I just want you to know that you do so maybe you'll be a little more careful about what you say and how you say it."

She took his hand and smiled at him.

He nodded and picked up his fork again.

"I'll be more careful," he told her.

"Thank you," she said. He probably wouldn't, but at least she felt like he might have actually heard her for a change.

"I still don't like her," he said.

Rachel sighed. She decided against mentioning her pending lunch with Santana. It would only cause more needless friction between them.

**=^..^=**

Quinn heard her phone chirp and she sifted through her stacks of paper until she found it. She looked the screen and recognized Rachel's number. She click on it and the photo of the bread slice filled her screen.

She smiled broadly.

She typed her response and hit send.

She paused briefly to wonder where she was and who she was having dinner with, but she probably already knew. She glanced at her phone again and noticed time had gotten away from her. It was already a little big past 6 o'clock.

Puck had never reappeared and she hadn't heard from Santana and Brittany either. She walked through the office, turning off the coffee maker and the copy machine. She let the computers go to sleep mode. Gathering her things she slipped out the back door and locked it then walked to her car.

She drove around, trying to think of something to occupy herself, but finally just gave up and went home. It was just as well; the house was empty when she got there. She feed all the animals and help Pie out onto the deck so he could get some fresh air.

**=^..^=**

Rachel felt her phone buzz. She waited until Finn was in a predictable and usually embarrassing conversation with the waiter about their bill and she pulled up where she could see it.

What, no butter? Tsk, tsk.

~Q

Rachel smiled behind her hand.

Their meal over, Rachel spent much of the drive home trying to think of how she might get by without inviting Finn inside. Turns out, he had plans with his friends for some new billiards/cigar club. He parked in the driveway and turned off the car, but didn't make any moves to go inside.

At first she was relieved, but then she realized it wasn't much to be relieved about. He immediately pulled her over closer to him.

"I'm sorry if I make you feel bad sometimes," he said, sincerely.

She relaxed against him.

"I know you are," she said, accepting his apology.

When he bent down to kiss her, she kissed him back. When he put his hands on her, she didn't push him away. It wasn't until he tried to put her hand in his lap that she pulled away from.

"Finn, no," she said, shrugging him off.

He fell back against the seat, frustrated and confused.

"Why not?" he whined like a spoiled child.

"Not in my driveway in a car," she said, sounding disgusted.

"I thought you told me you were an adult," he said, reminding her. "And you could have sex anywhere you wanted."

"True and I don't want to have it in a car in the driveway, " she pointed out.

"Why not?" he protested. "We've done it before."

"Finn," she said, sounding exhausted. "No. End of discussion."

"Alright, fine," he said, resigned to the fact he wouldn't change her mind. "I probably should go anyway. Can I at least kiss you?"

"Of course," she said, moving back into his embrace.

Her kissing was much less enthusiastic than it had been – decidedly cooler. He'd knew he'd managed to ruin whatever mood there was so he hugged her and turned her loose.

"Thank you for dinner, Finn," she said, place a final kiss on his cheek. "Goodnight."

"I'll call you tomorrow," he told her and watched as she got out of the car. He waited until she was safely inside and flashed her porch light for him which was his signal that all was well. Then he drove away.

As much as he loved Rachel, he sometimes wondered if putting up with her hot/cold whims was all worth it. Somehow it never occurred to her that what she wouldn't give he could easily get elsewhere. So far, he'd resisted the temptation, but his resolve was weakening. It was yet another thing he unreasonably blamed on Quinn. As far as he was concerned their relationship had been fine until the smug, sarcastic blonde had suddenly appeared. Between her lost cat and her new BFF, Rachel wasn't acting at all herself. If anything, she was acting more like Quinn.

**=^..^=**

Rachel just went straight to bed. She lay in the quiet dark of her room and stewed about the events of her evening. For the first time in a long time she'd let Finn kiss and caress her and felt thrilled by it. She stopped him only when he attempted to take things further, arguing that she didn't want to have sex in her driveway.

That, however, wasn't true, at least not entirely. She could kiss him and let him touch her, but she stopped short of touching him because touching him would have pulled her out of that space where she'd disappeared.

The place where all she could think about was Quinn.

She reached for her phone. She tapped the keys quickly and hit send.

R: Italian butter.

Q: No.

R: That's what they call it.

Q: Rachel, Rachel, Rachel.

Q: When are you going to stop listening to what others tell you?

R: Except for you.

Q: Ah, you are listening.

R: Cat's Meow.

Q: **=^..^=**

R: Were you sleeping?

Q: Probably, I don't remember.

R: I woke you. I'm sorry.

Q: I'm not.

Q: I'm all bit up.

Q: Damn mosquitoes.

R: LOL. Where are you?

Q: Laying on the deck. I was reading. Then I wasn't.

There was a long pause. Each wondered if the other had fallen asleep.

R: Did I do something?

Q: I don't know, did you?

Q: You usually do.

R: I thought you might be upset with me. You left so quickly today.

Q: Rachel, I'm not upset with you.

Q: All is well.

Another long pause.

R: I saw Noah today.

_Good lord. _

Q: My condolences. I apologize in advance for whatever he may have said or done.

Q: Was he fully clothed?

R: Of course. You're so...

Q: We go over and over this...perfect. I'm so...

R: Silly.

Q: Little one, I am many things, but not ever silly.

R: You are.

Q: Lies.

R: It's...

Q: Horrifying.

R: Sweet.

Q: Oh my GOD. What is wrong with you?

Q: I'm not silly.

Q: I'm not sw...sw...

Q: I can't even say it.

R: It's very endearing.

Q: Augh.

Q: Stop. Saying. Those. Things.

Q: People might hear you.

R: Are we friends?

Quinn did a double-take at the question. Where had that come from? There was an obvious answer and then there was a more complicate, not-so-obvious, answer. With a sigh, Quinn opted for the easy road.

Q: Yes, I'm your friend.

Q: But I won't be if you don't stop calling me such horrible names.

Q: And saying such mean things to me.

Q: Sob.

Rachel stared at the screen. She got the answer to what she asked, but it wasn't what she wanted to ask. Everything she was thinking and feeling and everything she was trying to avoid. rushed into her chest and she felt tears pushing up. She felt very alone and scared and overwhelmed.

Q: Rachel?

_Oh shit. _

Quinn waited, non-too-patiently. She was already on the verge of calling. Another few minutes and she'd be grabbing her car keys.

R: Yes?

To Quinn, it somehow managed to sound small and scared. Why did she see it that way? Now she didn't know what to say, what to ask,. What's going on? Are you alright? Is everything okay? Why am I worried about you? Do you need me?

Q: Just checking.

Q: It make me nervous when you're quiet.

Q: It happens so rarely.

Rachel smiled, taking a stilted breath. Oh my god, Quinn what are we doing?

R: Quinn.

Q: Chickadee?

R: I'm...

Q: Amazing.

R: No.

Q: Okay, I may exaggerate.

Q: So you're merely awesome.

Q: Aspire to amazing. It'll happen.

R: I worry about...

Q: Tell me.

R: Everything

Q: Me, too.

Q: Give me something you worry about.

Q: I'll worry about it for you so you don't have to.

R: It doesn't work that way.

Q: Sure it does. Try me. Give me something.

Q: Don't think, just do it.

Q: You're thinking about it. Stop.

Q: Come on!

Q Tick.

Q: Tick.

Q: Tick

R: Stop, you're making me mess up.

Q: God, you're slow.

Q: You talk 900 miles an hour.

Q: Non-stop.

R: QUINN!

R: Stop distracting me.

Q: Uh, no.

R: Yes!

Q: -_-

R: My career.

Q: Good god, it took you all that time to type two words?

Q: I'm going to worry about your manual dexterity.

R: You kept interrupting me.

R: You have no patience.

Q: I have plenty of patience.

R: I'm going to worry about your lack of patience.

R: And your temper.

Q: What temper?

R: I'm not the one who broke a truck window today.

Q: That was an accident.

R: Because you were being impatient.

Q: Why are we talking about me?

R: Because I'm worrying about your temper. Remember?

Q: Don't worry about my temper.

Q: I'm totally Zen.

R: HAHAHA!

Q: You mock my inner tranquility?

Q: No karma for you.

R: That's not very Zen.

Q: Fine. A little karma for you.

R: Gee, thanks.

R: I'll need it when my career implodes.

R: Because I'm eating carbs.

Q: I'm worry about your career. Remember?

Q: I have consulted with experts.

Q: It's being handled.

Q: So fuggedaboutit. Capice?

R: Really?

Q: Yes, really.

Q: Let things happen.

Q: Just be amazing when they do.

R: Why do you always make me feel so much better.

Q: Because.

R: Because why?

Q: It must be my amazing Zen-like patience.

R: Must be, I'm sure.

Q: Go to sleep, chickadee.

R: Good night, Quinn.

Q: Night, Rachel.

Quinn put the phone in her pocket and hauled herself out of the lounger, groaning. Her muscles protested loudly about sitting stiffly for so long in the damp air. She hurried Pie through his nightly ritual and carried him in the house. He was getting to where he didn't even try to walk the distance anymore.

She kept telling herself that was alright.

Telling herself lies was becoming a hobby; one she could live without.

**=^..^=**


	10. Chapter 10: NonBillable Hours

LBPDA CHAPTER 10:  
>Non-Billable Hours<p>

Quinn settled Pie in his bed. She walked through the house, making sure everything was secure. She turned the kitchen sink light on, just in case Puck stumbled in, then she filled the cat dishes. Once satisfied all was taken care of, she changed quickly and crawled into her bed.

She squirmed around and snuggled down, eyes closed. Now the wait for her brain to quiet down. Her phone rang and she groaned into her pillow. To ignore or not to ignore. Finally, she snatched it up.

"What Puck?" she said, not looking at the screen.

"Why do you think it's Noah?" Rachel asked.

Quinn laughed softly.

"Sometimes he calls when he needs a ride after class if he's too tired to drive," she said.

"Oh," she said, processing it. "Were you sleeping again?"

"Not exactly," Quinn answered.

There was quiet breathing on the other end of the line.

"Um, Rachel?" Quinn said, settling back into her pillow.

"Yes?" she answered. She must have something on her mind.

"Are you alright?" Quinn asked, wondering what she would do if she said she wasn't.

"I... I just can't sleep," she told her. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm making this your problem."

"Do you have any ice cream?" Quinn asked.

"What?" Rachel replied, clearly caught off guard by the question. "Ice cream?"

"You know, ice cream," Quinn said. "Frozen goodness that cure all manner of ills."

"Yes, I know what ice cream is," she said, smirking. "I just, I don't think I have any."

"Oh," Quinn said, sounding disappointed. "Okay."

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"I was thinking of having some," Quinn told her, taking a deep, disappointed sigh. "I thought you might also and we could have some together."

"No, I'm afraid I don't," she said.

Quinn could almost picture the serious, puzzled expression on her face.

"Were you going to come over?" she asked suddenly, her voice animated.

"Unless you were going to bring it to me," Quinn teased.

"I would," she said without hesitation.

"I know you would, chickadee," Quinn said. There was no disguising the affection in her voice.

"I will," she added. "I can get some. Or make something. I can bake cookies."

This was not sleep. In fact, this was the opposite of sleep. This was Rachel getting wound up like a top and starting to spin in every direction.

_Nice going, Quinn. _

Quinn glanced at the clock. It was a little after 10.

"Rachel, get dressed," she said.

"Why?" Rachel asked.

"I'm coming to get you," she told her. "Just jeans, comfortable. Wear your pajamas if you want. I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Quinn hung up before Rachel could answer. Either she'd go with her or she wouldn't. She rolled out of bed, threw on some comfortable clean clothes and left through the garage.

She could get used to this late-night, early-morning commute – the traffic was a non-factor. It was practically 20 minutes on the nose when she wheeled into Rachel's drive. She flashed her lights. Knowing Rachel she was watching for her. Sure enough, the front door opened and Rachel ran to the car and got inside.

"Hey," she said, excited.

"Hi chickadee," Quinn answered.

"Wow, a real seat belt," she said with a cute laugh. "I don't know what to do."

"You're soo funny," Quinn said, backing out of the driveway.

"I know you're not telling me where we're going," she said.

"You're right," Quinn remarked, nodding.

"I wasn't going to even ask." Rachel explained. "Really, I wasn't."

"Okay," Quinn said, smiling.

She cut her eyes over at Rachel. Jeans, a simple t-shirt, hair down, left to its own will, the barest trace of make-up. Of the many faces of Rachel Berry, this was, by far, her favorite.

Quinn turned into a mostly-empty parking lot.

"A movie?" Rachel asked, straining to see the marquee.

"Uh huh," Quinn told her.

"What are we seeing?" she asked.

"Whatever is playing," Quinn told her. "I don't care what we see. It's just about sitting in the dark, not thinking for a little while."

Rachel gave her a brilliant smile.

"Let's go, kiddo," she said, getting out. She waited for Rachel, who bounced up along side of her and took her arm immediately. Quinn let Rachel pick the movie and then they squabbled about the tickets. Quinn paid because otherwise she threatened to take Rachel straight home. Once inside, she let Rachel pay for some of their snacks so she'd stop pouting. They found their theater, which was nearly empty, and settled into their seats.

Rachel wasted no time dispatching the arm rest between them.

"Is this scary," she asked, bouncing in her seat.

"I have no idea," Quinn said honestly.

Truth was she didn't even know what movie Rachel had picked. It didn't matter to her; she'd be asleep in ten minutes regardless.

"This is so awesome," Rachel chirped, grabbing onto Quinn's thigh. "Thank you for doing this."

Quinn smiled. She was so easy to make... happy.

The trailers started and Rachel settle back, munching on popcorn, watching enthralled. Quinn spent more time watching Rachel than she did the screen. Glancing around she noted there were very few other people in the theater, mostly couples and they were all spread out, deliberately scattered it seemed. She almost wished there was more of a crowd. They could have stayed in, popped popcorn, watched movies, but she'd opted for this because it was public. There were temptations that were eliminated in public. This, however, wasn't proving to be very...public. That was evident by Rachel's vice grip on her lower thigh.

The movie credits started rolling and Rachel sat forward excitedly, eyes wide.

Okay, Quinn decided, this was worth any lost sleep.

It had wolves. She picked the movie because it had wolves. She thought Quinn would like it because it had wolves. But these weren't cute and cuddly wolves. These were wolves being wolves. Almost immediately the lip was nervously trapped between her teeth. Ten more minutes and Rachel's hand was to her mouth and she was inching ever closer to Quinn. Another five minutes and she was huddled close, face folded into Quinn's shoulder, eyes shielded from the screen. There may have been whimpering.

Quinn had her arm draped across the back of the seat and she dropped it to rub up and down her back, smirking.

_Yeah, real public. Another nice play, Fabray. _

It certainly wasn't an ASPCA commercial but it had a similar effect. Quinn finally just wrapped her arm around her and Rachel buried her face into her chest, hand clutching the fabric of her shirt.

"We can leave," Quinn said softly, lips against the top of her head. "If you want."

Rachel gave a tight shake of her head.

She was watching. Granted with one eye, while peering out through her fingers, but some parts weren't so bad; more tense than scary and gory. It was rather good actually. More than anything, though, she didn't want to move away from Quinn. She found herself trying not to think about where her hand was and where it could reach. That very thought made her light-headed and she closed her eyes. She opened them and peered out, only to jump, scream and duck her face back again.

She felt Quinn shaking with amused laughter.

"It's not funny," she scolded.

"I know," Quinn remarked. "It's so relaxing and tranquil. I feel so refreshed."

She felt many things, but refreshed was not one of them.

"Shhhh," Rachel said in a harsh whisper.

"Don't shush me," Quinn said, frowning. "It's not like anyone can hear me."

"Quinn, stop," Rachel insisted, patting her on the chest.

Quinn grunted and shifted, then propped her feet up on the chair in front of her and slid down low in her seat.

"What are you doing?" Rachel fussed, shifting about to follow suit.

"Getting comfortable," she explained. "My butt's asleep."

"I don't think everyone heard you," Rachel fretted, shaking her head.

Quinn raised up slightly.

"I said, 'my butt's asleep,' " she repeatedly loudly as Rachel clapped a hand over her mouth, pulling her back down. Quinn squirmed away.

"Oh my god," Quinn added at the same volume. "Stop trying to put your hand down my..."

Quinn's words were lost, muffled as Rachel shrieked and covered her mouth again. She held her hand there and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

"Are you going to behave?" Rachel asked, her tone serious.

Quinn responded by firmly licking the inside of Rachel's hand. Rachel squealed and wiped her palm on Quinn's shirt. They both pretended not to notice how she inadvertently managed a major boob graze. Each just flushed furiously grateful for the darkness around them.

Order restored, Quinn chuckled happily and wiggled back down into her seat. When she was convinced Quinn was settled, Rachel snuggled right back against her.

"Brat," Rachel muttered under her breath. Quinn like it immensely and her smile reached all the way into her eyes.

_Not so sweet now, am I? _

She leaned back and closed her eyes, pulling her arm back around Rachel, letting the tip of a finger smooth back and forth over a sliver of bare skin at her waist where her shirt pulled up. Her skin was so soft. She smelled so heavenly.

No matter how tired she was, Quinn would readily admit this was a good idea.

"Quinn," Rachel said, nudging her.

Quinn frowned hard and shook her head, muttering.

"Quinn, wake up," Rachel said loudly, shaking her harder.

"Hmmm?" Quinn said, unhappily. "Rachel, quiet."

Rachel laughed.

"You have to wake up now, Quinn," she said, leaning down onto Quinn's chest, tickling under her chin. "Gotta go home."

Quinn frowned.

"No," she said, protesting. "You stay."

She rolled a fist in Rachel's shirt, pulling on her. Again, Rachel chuckled. Quinn was so cute like this.

"Come on sleepyhead," she taunted. "We need to..."

Quinn raised up and crushed her lips against Rachel's, kissing her hard to make her stop talking. That accomplished, she pulled away and settled back down, still clinging possessively to Rachel's shirt.

It definitely worked; largely because Rachel was too stunned to continue speaking.

"Mmmm, go back to sleep, chickadee," she mumbled, her voice rough and slurred. "We'll get up later."

She kept trying to turn over and couldn't. It was making her really mad.

Seizing the moment, Rachel ran her hand along Quinn's face, then reached to smooth back her hair. Heart leaping into her throat, she leaned into the semi-conscious blonde, kissing her mouth softly several times before she snuggled her face into her neck. Quinn stopped thrashing and relaxed, apparently soothed by Rachel's presence.

"Quinn," Rachel purred in a steady, low voice alongside her ear. "You're dreaming."

Quinn chuckled and put her arm around Rachel's lower back.

"Nice dream," she answered with a sleepy smile as she ran her hand down over Rachel's ass.

Rachel inhaled sharply.

"Hmm, fun," Quinn said slowly, squeezing.

"Oh my god," Rachel moaned, gulping for air. She put her hand around Quinn's neck.

"Chickadee," Quinn said, her eyes fluttering open. "Mmmm, hey."

She realized that Rachel was pressed up against her, her face buried beneath her ear. Her fingers were tickling the hair at the nape of Quinn's neck. Quinn smiled and she blinked a couple of times. Content, she closed her eyes again, rubbing Rachel's ass affectionately.

After a few beats her eyes popped open wide.

"What the fuck?" she said slowly, realizing what she was doing.

She moved her hand off Rachel's behind like it was on a hot burner.

"Okay, I clearly missed something," she said, trying not to panic. "What are we doing?"

"Cuddling," Rachel said, making no effort to move.

"Why?" Quinn asked. She was trying to shrink as far away from Rachel as she could without bodily pushing her off.

"I think you wanted to," she told her. Rachel let her lips brush against Quinn's neck as she spoke. It tickled and Quinn refused to like it, even thought it felt really really good.

"Why do we think that?" Quinn asked, wondering why they were even having this ridiculous conversation.

"Because," Rachel said, kissing Quinn softly on the neck before pulling away. "You were dreaming. You asked me to stay with you so we could sleep longer."

Rachel smothered a giggle upon seeing the angst-riddled look on Quinn's face.

"That was after you told me to be quiet and kissed me," she added.

"Bullshit," Quinn insisted, waving a dismissive hand.

"Nope," Rachel teased, tapping her finger repeatedly against Quinn's cheek. "All true."

The lights came on in the theater and Quinn winced.

"Oh my god," Quinn said, burying her face in her hands. "Rachel, please tell me you're making this shit up."

She already knew that she wasn't. Why else would she have her hand on Rachel's ass?

"I'm not," Rachel said, leaning her face down close to Quinn's. "It's alright. Don't be embarrassed."

Quinn peeked at her through her fingers.

"This is..." she couldn't finish the sentence and just rolled her eyes. "It's a nightmare."

"I like you, Quinn," Rachel said so quietly Quinn almost didn't hear her.

Quinn just looked at her.

"We need to go," she said, standing up abruptly. "Get your stuff, chic...get your things."

Rachel tossed about gathering her things. She followed Quinn up the aisle, struggling to keep up with her. Once outside the theater she reached for Quinn's hand, but Quinn pulled it away.

Quinn unlocked Rachel's door and opened it for her.

Rachel just shook her head.

"What do you mean, no?" Quinn asked, frowning.

"I'm not getting in the car with you," Rachel said. "Not when you're like this."

"Like what?" Quinn protested. "Stop being ridiculous and get in."

Rachel walked away from her a few feet and wrapped her arms around her waist. Quinn slammed the door closed.

"I'm not being... ridiculous," she said, visibly hurt. "I want to know why you're acting this way."

Quinn scoffed loudly and walked around to the driver's side and got in the car. She sat, waiting. When Rachel didn't get in, she grunted loudly and got back out again.

"Look," she said, walking up to Rachel, who dropped her eyes to the ground. "I don't know what happened in there, okay? I...it's not...I'm not... FUCK!"

She went stomping off into the empty parking lot, muttering and cursing. At least Rachel knew this routine.

"Use your words, Quinn," she said, rolling her eyes.

Quinn turned suddenly and came back, walking right up to Rachel.

"Here's a word, Rachel, " Quinn said snappishly. "Boyfriend."

Rachel looked chastised.

"Look," Quinn continued, her mind working furiously. "We flirt, okay. We kid, we flirt, we tease, it's just... it is what it is. And that's okay. This shit tonight, not okay."

She was looking intently at Rachel, who was staring right back at her. She looked stricken and confused.

"It's okay," she said meekly. "I don't mind."

"You don't mind?" Quinn said angrily.

Quinn scoffed loudly and Rachel shrank visibly.

"I just meant..." Rachel stammered, afraid to say anything now.

"You have a boyfriend, Rachel," Quinn said plainly, like that solved everything. "You have a boyfriend and I have...I can't with these feelings...there's no point...you have a boyfriend."

"I like you," Rachel said quietly.

Quinn threw her hands up in frustration.

"Are you hearing anything I'm saying?" Quinn asked, snapping her fingers around in the air in front of Rachel's face. "Boyfriend."

"I know, it's just..." Rachel said, looking up trying to find words in the air above her head. "I just...I, I, I like you, Quinn."

"I like you, too, Rachel," Quinn said, trying to find some way to be rational. "As a person, as a friend. I think you're..."

"Amazing," Rachel said in a small, sad voice.

"Yes, Rachel," Quinn admitted, sighing heavily. "You're amazing. So...fucking...amazing."

"I like you," Rachel repeated. "I never expected anything like this to happen. I just... oh my god, I like you."

"Stop saying that like it...means anything," Quinn said. "I like you, too. I do. I even like-you like-you. Very much, in fact. It still doesn't change anything."

"Because..." Rachel said.

"Yes, because..." Quinn repeated.

"Tell me what to do, Quinn," Rachel said, moving toward her, reaching out to her. "Help me make sense of this."

"Oh no, no, no, no," Quinn said, backing away from her, hands up and waving her off. No more touching. More boundaries. "I'm not going there, Rachel. That's not going to be on me."

"Quinn," Rachel pleaded. "Please."

_Crap._

"I'll help you do most anything, Rachel," Quinn said emphatically. "I'll clean your gutters, fix your dinner, be your chauffeur, make you laugh, I'll hold your hair when you vomit, I'll even donate non-essential body parts, but I'm not going to be the one to make any kind of decisions about this for you. Your boyfriend, your feelings, your life, your problem."

And cue crying.

It started as fat tears, sliding down.

"Oh..." Quinn said.

Then it was a few muffled sobs,

"My..."

then it was a whining torrent.

"GOD!" Quinn hissed. She balled her fists and and screamed inwardly. Of course, the frustrated look on her face made Rachel cry even harder.

"Rachel, stop," she said, but it was tantamount to spitting on a wildfire.

"Don't," she tried again, her tone much less stern, but Rachel just turned away from her and continued to cry.

_So not my fault. _

Quinn walked over and took her by the arms. Rachel tried to pull away but Quinn wouldn't allow it and forced her to turn around. She pulled the sobbing girl flush against her and held fast. Rachel was, for the most part, unyielding. Quinn held on, whispering soothing nothings against her temple. Finally Rachel softened and molded into her; tears spilling hot against the front of her shirt.

"Shhh," Quinn said in hushed murmurs. "Just breathe, big, deep breaths."

All she managed was shuddering hiccups punctuated by sniffles.

"That's...somewhat...no, actually, that sucks, try again," Quinn said, rubbing the back of her neck.

Lost among all the sobs was the smallest of giggles.

"I'm sorry," Rachel stammered. "I've messed this up."

"Nothing is messed up," Quinn assured her. "We still have the same highly-dysfunctional, unhealthy, dark, twisted relationship we had before."

Another giggle, more sniffles.

"I still like you," Quinn admitted.

"Like me or like-me like-me?" Rachel asked.

"All of the possible likes," Quinn said and chuckled at herself.

Giggle.

Rachel fell against her and latching her arms around Quinn's waist.

As nice as it all was, nothing was fixed, nothing was changed and they both knew it, but it was better to ignore it than to argue pointlessly about it.

"Come on, let's get you home," Quinn said, squeezing her.

"Not until you say it," Rachel said, tightening her grip in defiance.

"Say what?" Quinn asked more than a little frightened by the question.

"You know," Rachel insisted.

Quinn thought for a moment then smiled.

"Let's get you home, chickadee," she corrected.

Very reluctantly, Rachel moved away and let Quinn pull the car door open again. She slid in and Quinn shut it firmly after her.

There wasn't much conversation on the drive back, which was mercifully quick. Quinn felt Rachel's eyes on her the whole way.

She steered up Rachel's drive, shifted into park and waited, not certain of what to expect. Rachel reached for her hand and she let her take it and hold it.

"You really won't..." Rachel asked and Quinn interrupted immediately.

"No, I'm not getting in the middle," she told her again, leaving no question that she was serious. "Anything you decide, anything you do, it's all on you. It has to be."

Rachel nodded, clearly unhappy about it.

"I've never...been in this...situation before," she said quietly, staring into her lap, fingers rubbing on Quinn's hand. "Maybe we could just...if we just..."

"No," Quinn said before she could finish. "We can't. Or rather, I won't." She leaned over and kissed Rachel's cheek. "I'm not going to do that. You deserve more than that, better than that."

Rachel smiled weakly.

"Maybe we need a little...distance," Quinn suggested carefully. Rachel's head snapped and she began to protest, vigorously.

"No, that's not acceptable," she said, her grip on Quinn's hand now a vice. "I don't need that. I don't want that. I can't...not...see you."

"Just a little while, maybe a couple of days," Quinn continued. "Cool things down, clear everyone's head."

"I'm not listening to you," Rachel insisted childishly. "Besides, you have to keep looking... for Nicky."

Quinn sighed.

"About that..." she said and glanced up at Rachel.

"No, oh no," Rachel said loudly, her chin already quivering. "Don't say it. Just, stop. I have more days. I still have days left."

Quinn nodded.

"After that though..." she said gently.

She'd already decided she wasn't taking another check from Rachel and she'd be sure and tell Brittany first thing in the morning as well. At some point it was crueler to keep building up her hopes. And even if Quinn didn't believe that moment had passed, all things considered, it might be kinder to help Rachel accept the harsh reality and start healing.

"Just...just give me those." Rachel pleaded urgently. "Just the days left."

"Okay, alright," Quinn said, backtracking. This situation she would own. "You're right. You do, sure. We...I'll...keep trying. A little while longer."

Rachel knew full well that was her best excuse to see Quinn and she wasn't going to let it go easily even if it was more an act of futility than anything else.

"I'm keeping you," Rachel said quietly.

"I'm not in any hurry," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"Puck said I should leave you alone," Rachel told her.

Now it was Quinn's head that snapped up.

"What?" Quinn said. "When?"

"Today. Well, not in those exact words," Rachel admitted, qualifying the statement. "But that's what I think he might have been trying to say."

"What did you tell him?" Quinn asked, squelching down her anger at Puck.

"That you were special to me and that I cared about you," she said honestly. "I think he was just being protective."

"I'm a big girl," Quinn told her. "He knows that."

"Doesn't matter," Rachel observed shrewdly. "Don't be mad at him."

"Too late," she admitted.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" Rachel asked, deliberately avoiding her eyes.

Quinn sighed.

Quinn tugged on their joined hands, pulling Rachel closer.

"Let me think about this," she said, then leaned over and kissed her. Soft, simple kisses. She nuzzled her face with her nose briefly and then pulled back.

Rachel blinked at her, then hit her with that heart-tugging lost expression she got sometimes when she was worried or frightened

"No, I don't," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel managed the tiniest of sweet smiles.

"But I don't want to keep walking around on this tightrope either," she admitted. "It's frustrating. Too exhausting."

Rachel nodded.

"At some point either we're just friends or we're not. Do you understand me?"

A small nodding of her head.

"Either I can kiss you like I want to or not." Quinn continued.

"You kiss me," Rachel answered.

"No," Quinn disagreed. "I haven't... not really."

"But right now, will you..can we still?" Rachel stammered.

Quinn smiled and kissed her again, guessing that's what she wanted. Nothing more than soft contact, gentle pressure. At some point Rachel brought her hands up and cupped them around Quinn's face. Any time Rachel would try and make it more than just simple kissing, Quinn would pull back or move her lips to her face.

Finally, when it was more thanQuinncould stand, she pressed her lips against Rachel's temple and then sat back. Rachel whimpered and reached again, taking her hand.

"Not so much fun sometimes, is it?" Quinn asked, watching her.

Rachel shook her head.

"Now just imagine watching me with someone else and welcome to my world," Quinn told her, letting an eyebrow arch up to illustrate her point.

"I'm sorry," Rachel mumbled. Again.

"I don't want you to be sorry," Quinn told her, truthfully. "I want you to be happy. I want you to decide what's best for you."

"What about what I want?" she asked, sulking.

Petulant, selfish Rachel was not so amazing.

"Ironically, this is ultimately pretty much all about what _you _want," Quinn said dryly. "And don't say you're sorry again."

Rachel's breathing got sideways.

"And don't cry," Quinn told her wrapping an arm around her, tucking her head under her chin. "Just be aware of it. That's all I'm saying."

Quinn was starting to feel like a bit of a bully. She didn't want to make Rachel feel bad, but it was kind of hard not too sometimes. Especially when she wanted to try and paint herself as a victim of circumstances.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" Rachel asked.

"No," Quinn said emphatically.

"No, no, just...stay," Rachel fussed. "I'll sleep on the couch. I just don't want you to go home yet."

_Shit. _

Just when Quinn was starting to feel slightly positive about the fact that they were talking about the big elephant in the room, bringing it out into the open. Thinking maybe it really wasn't Pandora's box after all. But now this.

"I don't think it's a good idea, Rachel," Quinn explained. "I think it would just be asking for problems."

There was definitely whining, clinging and whining.

"But why not?" she asked pitifully.

"You can't seriously be asking me that question," Quinn said, clearly getting annoyed.

Rachel tucked in her lips and dropped her head.

Quinn rolled her eyes, then kissed the top of her head.

"Not so much fun," she said again and Rachel shook her head.

"Are you sorry I came and got you?" Quinn asked, because it would bother her if she didn't know.

Again Rachel shook her head.

"Are you fibbing?" Quinn asked, smiling.

"No," Rachel said indignantly. "I'm...not."

Even if she wasn't lying, Quinn hated the sound of her voice. It was broken and wounded and awful. She couldn't help but wonder if forcing her to see the truth of their situation might not have been the worst thing possible.

Maybe this moment was all they were ever going to have.

She would never admit it to Rachel, but if she stayed with Finn it might just be too hard. Up until now, Quinn could somewhat ignore it. Now she just wasn't sure that was possible anymore. As long as Rachel was with Finn once their contract was up, Quinn already knew she probably couldn't be around her.

She put her arms around Rachel and pulled her tight against her, dropping her lips to her neck, letting her hand wind up into her thick, silky curls. If this was all they were going to have, Quinn wanted this moment, this memory.

She wanted to mark her; she ached to suck and bite the perfect skin and leave a mark, to say "she is mine." She'd taste the salt of her skin under the soothing of her tongue only to move and start again. Instead, she just rested her lips against soft, damp skin, eyes closed, letting everything fill her up inside until she couldn't breath anymore. Even then she willed herself to just drown so she didn't have to know how it would end.

"I have to go," she whispered.

Rachel clutched at her and shook her head.

"Not yet," she said, "A little while longer, please."

Unlike Quinn, Rachel felt no hesitation, no restraint. She latched her mouth onto Quinn's neck and pulled, raising blood to the surface. She grazed with her teeth and then nipped hard, making Quinn gasp. She knew full well what Rachel was doing but she didn't pull away. She couldn't. It was exquisite. When Rachel traced over it with kittenish laps of her tongue Quinn groaned softly. Rachel's mouth slid wetly down finding unmarred skin and she began again. This time Quinn pulled her away, tugging at her hair. She latched onto Rachel's lower lip and suckled it, then switched to her top lip, tugging at it tenderly. If she put her tongue in her mouth she'd be lost.

She pulled back and rested her head against Rachel's forehead.

"I have to go," Quinn told her, swallowing hard. "I have to go right now. "

Her heart was hammering in her chest. She kept twisting her hands in Rachel's hair.

"You have to get out Rachel," she insisted "I can't not touch you... it's too... just go."

She rained soft kisses across Rachel's face.

"Please, just tell me goodnight." she said, tugging on her earlobe with her teeth, growling. "I don't want it to be like this."

Oh god, if Rachel asked her stay again Quinn already knew she couldn't refuse her.

Rachel slowly unwound herself and pushed back against Quinn's chest, forcing her up against the driver's side door. She met Quinn's eyes. They were dark, golden, cat-like. Rachel smiled and brushed her fingertips along Quinn's cheek and across her lips, then nodded.

With two simple, sweet lingering kisses, she opened the door, closed it and was gone. Quinn watched as she ran to her front door and fumbled with the keys. She could see her hands were shaking, but she finally managed to get the key in the lock and disappeared inside without a glance back.

Quinn dropped her head to the steering wheel, desperate to get a hold of herself so she could get out of there. She rolled the window down, craving the rush and sobering clarity of air. She put the car in reverse then wheeled it down the driveway on auto-pilot.

Two sets of eyes watched her drive away.

_Just drive, don't think. Don't think. Don't think about Rachel. _

_Don't think about kissing Rachel. _

_Don't think about Rachel pressed up against you. _

_Don't think about_ _how unbelievably turned on you still are right now. _

_Just drive._

Quinn walked into the house to find the remnants of an impromptu party scattered throughout the house and casualties strewn everywhere, sleeping off their merriment. Sam was in the living room. Brittany and Santana were in her room. Puck wasn't sleeping alone either, but she had no idea who was sharing his bed.

God, of all nights. She just wanted to just collapse and go unconscious.

She sat down at the kitchen table. There was a slice of stale cake on a plate and she picked at it, breaking off pieces with her fingers and stuffing them in her mouth, looking for some vague comfort in sugar. When that proved futile she noted the nearly-empty tequila bottle sitting next to it and grabbed for it. She unscrewed it and tipped it up, letting it slow burn as she swallowed the last few remaining shots. Clearly she was jonesing for an oral-fix in the wake of her frustratingly chaste exchanges with Rachel. She brought her fingertips to the side of her neck wondering how obvious it was.

Sitting at the table surrounded by party debris, eating cake, swilling liquor and pining over someone she wanted but couldn't have, she was having serious college flashbacks. Hearing noises, she turned to find Santana standing in the living room in Quinn's pajamas, a t-shirt and boy shorts, watching her. Feeling somewhat guilty, she wiped the back of her hand across her mouth.

Santana stared at her a moment longer, then grabbed her purse and wrapped her fingers around Quinn's wrist and headed toward the deck, Quinn in reluctant tow. She opened the patio doors, pushed Quinn out and followed after, then pulled them shut.

"Bad night?" she asked, walking to the patio table.

Quinn shrugged.

"How weird is it that this is such raging deja vu?" she said smiling.

Quinn chuckled.

"Glory days," she said, sitting down on the tabletop, her feet on the bench.

Santana began rooting around in her purse and Quinn knew she was searching for cigarettes. It was a stress vice that she indulged infrequently. Finding them, she pulled one out and lit it, dragging the smoke into her lungs, then blowing it effortlessly away.

Santana held the cigarette out to her.

"You might as well hit all the old vices tonight, get them out of your system," she told her with a smirk.

Quinn took it. She puffed hard, held it in and then spewed it out with a ragged coughing fit. Santana frowned, shook her head, taking the cigarette away from her.

"Pussy," she said, rolling her eyes watching Quinn wheeze.

"Nice love bite," she taunted, motioning with the cigarette. "She tagged the fuck out of you. And I hope that was literally – please tell me you got a little something-something to go along with that."

Quinn shook her head.

"Quinn," she scoffed.

Quin shrugged.

"Quinn. You, my dear," Santana observed wryly. "Are a fucking moron. Or, in this case, a non-fucking moron."

"Shut up," Quinn muttered.

"So I take it that everyone knows the _what up _now? " she continued, taking another drag. "We're all in happy, bubbly mutual states of like and in mutual states of totally pointless sexual frustration?"

"There wasn't a whole lot of happy involved," Quinn observed morosely.

"Well?" Santana barked.

"Well what?" Quinn snapped back.

"What's she going to do?" she asked. "I mean besides think dirty thoughts about you while she touches her girl parts wishing it was you?"

"My guess, " Quinn said, staring at her shoes, not rising to Santana's taunts. "Not a goddamned thing. She won't leave him."

"You don't know that," Santana said helpfully.

"He's got everything she wants," Quinn said. "He's the brass ring."

"And yet she can't seem to stay away from you?" Santana pointed out. "What's up with that I wonder?"

"She wants both," Quinn told her. "She's too scared to let go of what she has."

"Well, what exactly are you offering her in exchange?" she asked, huffing smoke rings in Quinn's direction.

Quinn scowled at her.

"Isn't your whole sales pitch basically leave him and then I'll fuck you?" Santana pressed. "As enticing as that sounds, I'm not sure I'd go for it either."

"So what, I'm supposed to propose?" Quinn snarled. "Ten days ago she didn't even know I existed. How can I ask anything of her? I mean, she's terrified, San. Of what she wants, of what will happen, or what she'd be giving up."

"She's not the only one who's frightened here, Quinn," Santana remarked. "You have a tendency to be all or nothing about things. Not to mention you're picky as fuck."

"Am I supposed to share her with him?" Quinn countered angrily.

"Of course not, stop being so melodramatic," Santana said, taking the last draw on her cigarette. "It doesn't suit you. So tell me, is this something?"

"Stop talking in cliches," Quinn said, starting to feel the liquor. "Say what the fuck you mean."

"You might try a dose of your same advice," Santana answered. "Is this something to you? It this someone you want to be with? Or just someone to get with a few times?"

"If I wanted a quick tumble, I'd have already had it. Tonight, in fact, if not sooner," Quinn said, rubbing her head. "You know me, San. I don't do that. She knows that it's more than just that for me. "

Quinn rolled her eyes hard.

"How would she know that, Quinn?" she asked, poking her in the side of the head. "Did you tell her that? Flirting and playing footsie and "oopsie I touched your boob" isn't saying anything except you like her and want to touch her naughty bits. There's like, then there's _can't think of anything else_ like. Which is it, Quinn?"

"I just want to touch her naughty bits," Quinn said.

Santana frowned and smacked her lightly on the back of the head.

"You lie," she said.

"She's...special," Quinn admitted. "I don't know how to explain it."

"I know you, Quinn," Santana said, tamping out the cigarette on the side of the table. "You're so worried you might have to be the slightest bit vulnerable, that you might suffer some big, bad consequences that you won't own up to what you want. I'll bet you a million fucking dollars you didn't ask her to leave him."

"I can't do that," Quinn said in a conspiratorial whisper, her voice slow and thick.

"Why the fuck not?" Santana asked. "If it were me, which both know it would not be because I could never be this fucking lame, but in an alternate universe somewhere, if it were me, I'd be screaming, 'Choose me. Fucking choose me' every chance I got."

Quinn looked appalled.

"Look, all she sees, Quinn, is that you're madly hot for her, but you're not willing to fight for her." Santana explained.

Quinn scowled angrily.

"That makes you no better than Puck," Santana continued.

"Ahhh, you...no," Quinn said shocked.

Quinn screwed up her face to protest but couldn't find the right words. Maybe that's because she was drunk or maybe that's because Santana was right, exactly which she wasn't sure.

"I'll fight for her," Quinn muttered, flailing a fist, frowning. "I said she deserved better than just one time tonight."

"Did you say it or did you sort-of say it?" Santana asked, looking hard at her.

Quinn looked nervous. She couldn't remember what she said now. Maybe it was a little vague.

"Let me really blow your mind," Santana continued, smiling. "I'll bet you left out of there tonight, feeling all school-boy horny and congratulating yourself for being _so_ noble while vowing not to see her again because it's just too hard and she's a big, bad meany for teasing like she is. Am I right?"

Quinn gaped and looked at Santana with wide eyes.

"Whoa," she muttered under breath. "Psychic shit."

Santana laughed. This was too easy.

"You're in this emotionally up to your fine ass," she continued. "That makes the whole 'no cheating' line in the sand you're working way moot. You've been into her from the first time she batted those puppy eyes at you and she was on board the first time she kissed you, luck or otherwise."

"I like kissing her," Quinn said, nodding.

Santana held up a hand.

"Quinn, if you want her to know she means something to you and that you want more than just a few sweaty nights of her time, then you need to tell her that," Santana said, wondering if it was all wasted effort in Quinn's current fuzzy state of mind. " And if she wants a night to see what she's been missing, so give it to her. Sleep with her. It's only a dick move if that's all you're offering and make her think otherwise. You are totally not just leading this girl on."

"It doesn't feel right," Quinn insisted.

Santana shook her head.

"Stubborn idiot," she muttered.

"Don't want to break her heart" Quinn said, clearly fading.

"No, you don't want her to break yours," Santana chided. "That scares you even more. You're afraid that you don't rate, that she won't take what you're offering. Well, Q, to lose it, you gotta offer it first, consequences be damned. Do you feel me?"

Quinn nodded, blinking.

"Whatever you do, don't fuck anything up until I meet with her," Santana warned.

"S'all good," Quinn said, squinting at her with blurry eyes. She tried to give her an OK sign, but couldn't quite get her index finger and her thumb to meet.

Santana chuckled.

"Oh, and Quinn?" Santana said. She twisted her hand quickly in front of Quinn's face, then held up her clenched fist with her thumb fixed between her middle and index finger.

"Got your nose," she teased.

Quinn grinned.

"Come on, Mighty Quinn," Santana said, tugging Quinn's hand. "Let's go put Sam-the-Sham on the floor and get you a place to sleep."

She pushed Quinn ahead of her, holding a hand against her back to keep her steady.

"I really want to sleep with her," Quinn said in a loud whisper.

"I know you do, " Santana said, laughing.

Quinn's horns were showing.

"I mean, a lot," Quinn added, stopping and letting Santana walk into her. "As in many times."

"Yes, dear, we know," Santana acknowledged. "Now tell her that."

Santana nudged her forward.

"Seriously, Q that's a mighty fierce hickey she laid on you, " she said. "I mean, just imagine what else she can do with that mouth."

Quinn chuckled devilishly and then frowned.

"Hey," she protested.

Santana laughed.

"That's my almost-girlfriend you're talking about," Quinn said.

"That's the spirit," Santana told her, pushing against her.

Santana marched her into the living room and propped her up against the wall while she rousted Sam awake by yanking the pillow out from under his head.

"Get up, Rainbow Brite," she said, nudging him awake. "Go sleep over there. Q's sleeping here. "

He was too afraid of Santana to even ask what was going on. He just grabbed his pillow and blanket when she shoved them at him and stumbled over to the recliner.

"Come here, Romeo," she said, pulling Quinn down onto the couch. She walked over and yanked Sam's pillow back from him.

"You don't need this," she said without further comment. She walked over and tucked it beneath Quinn's head. "You, however, are going to need all the cushioning your sorry hard head can get in a few hours."

She covered her with a blanket.

"Can I have my phone," Quinn muttered, reaching toward the table.

Santana grabbed her hand and tucked in under the blanket.

"Hell to the no," Santana scolded, frowning. "You do not need your phone. No one needs to hear your drunk-ass ramblings. Just go to sleep while you can cause you're gonna hate yourself in a few hours."

"I love you, San," Quinn said, rolling over.

"Of course, you do," Santana said.

She walked over to Sam, who was trying to be invisible.

"You're in charge of her wasted ass," she said, stabbing a menacing finger in his direction. "Don't let her wander out of the damn house or do anything else stupid."

He stared at her.

"Nod so I can hold you accountable," she hissed.

He nodded quickly.

"Awesome," she quipped. She flashed him a cheesy smile and then strutted back down the hall, hoping Brittany was awake. She slipped into the room and closed the door. There was commotion and yelling and the door opened again and Loki came flying out followed by Santana's flailing foot.

"Maldita loca del gato del diablo ," she muttered and slammed the door after him. "Mean little fucker."

Loki hissed indignantly, then stalked off to Puck's room where Quinn had left the door slightly ajar.

At first there was confused sleepy muttering, that was quickly followed by excited screaming, followed by cursing and crashing. Loki raced out of the room and the door slammed shut after him.

"Fucking psycho demon," Puck ranted.

"I think he peed on my shoes," a girl's voice whined loudly.

Sam sat watching the front door, too afraid to risk going to sleep. He watched as Loki raced into the room, ran full tilt into the patio door and bounced off with a dull thud. He sat bewildered, shaking his head. When he finally noticed Sam, he arched up and hissed at him, droning loudly.

Sam whimpered.

"Loki, stop it," Quinn said, throwing her balled-up sock at him. He caught it, then rolled over on his back, clutching it in a death grip and bunny-kicking at it furiously. Once he was sure it was sufficiently dead, he stalked off, carrying it in his mouth and purring happily.

Quinn lay back down and tossed around, muttering to herself. Sam was too freaked out to look in her direction. She kicked the blanket off, sitting up. She was determined to get her phone and pulled herself up. Sam watched nervously as she stumbled into kitchen and snatched her phone off the table.

"Cake," she said excitedly, stuffing a forkful in her mouth. She saw a bottle of soda and went for that as well, carrying it back to the couch.

She tried a few times to type a text, but it just wasn't happening. She finally gave up and dialed the number she wanted. Rachel answered on the second ring.

"Mmmm hello?" she said, her voice full of sleep.

"Hey sweetie," she said happily.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked softly.

"Hey chickadee," Quinn replied.

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked, clearly surprised. She had finally fallen asleep and her last thoughts were of the beautiful blonde.

"Fine, fine, fine, fine, fine," she assured her. "Are you okay, Rach?"

"Yes. Errr, Quinn, have you been...drinking?" she asked, worried.

"Mmmmaaybee. Shhh, it's okay," Quinn answered. "I'm not driving."

Rachel chuckled.

"Where are you?" Rachel asked, still concerned.

"On the couch," she answered. "My room was occu...confi...full when I got home. No room at the inn for Quinn"

Quinn giggled uncontrollably and Rachel relaxed considerably when she realized she was at home and safe.

"Oh, hey, Rachel?" Quinn said.

"Yes?" she answered.

"I didn't mean it," Quinn said quietly.

"What?" Rachel asked, her voice anxious and urgent. "What didn't you mean?"

Quinn was rubbing her head. She had so much she wanted to say and couldn't make it come together the way she wanted it to.

"I can't get it right," she said, helplessly. "It's not just about you. I didn't mean it was only you."

"Quinn," Rachel said, exhaling deeply. "I can't stop thinking about you."

"I don't want you to stop," Quinn told her. "I like the thought of that."

Sam coughed.

"Who is that? "Rachel asked.

"I don't know," Quinn said, rubbing her eyes. "San or Sam, I forget."

"Is he listening," Rachel asked, her voice suddenly very quiet.

Quinn laughed.

"I don't care," she said. "You're whispering. That's so cute."

Quinn giggled.

"Tell me what to do, Quinn," Rachel said seriously. "I'm so torn up inside."

"It's not hard," Quinn answered. "Choose me. That's what you should do, you should choose me."

Rachel groaned.

"Oh god, I wish you had stayed," Rachel told her.

"Me, too," Quinn said, laying her head down, closing her eyes. "I wish you were here."

"Oh Quinn," Rachel said, her voice a mixture of all the emotions she was feeling.

"I'm gonna come get you," Quinn announced.

"No!" Rachel said, scolding loudly. "No, you can't. Quinn!"

Quinn could hear Rachel's voice buzzing from the phone, but she was forcing herself up and struggling to pull on her shoes. Where was her other sock?

Quinn pick up the phone again.

"Stay there, don't move," she told her. "I gotta find my sock."

"Quinn, stop, wait, listen to me!" Rachel said frantically. "You can't drive."

"I gotta put you in my pocket for a minute," she said, ignoring her protests.

She finally managed to get her shoes on the right feet and staggered up, promptly stumbling over the coffee table.

"Fucking furniture," she muttered, kicking at it.

"Bye, Sam," she said, tossing him a wave.

"Bye?" he said, snapping awake.

He struggled to get the recliner upright and stumbled past her, grabbing for her keys on the table. He held them up away from her just as she reached for them.

"Hey," she said, brow furrowing angrily. "Cut the shit, Hanson."

"Quinn, you can't drive," he said nervously. "You gotta stay right here."

He tried to get past her, but she snagged his shirt.

"I want those keys," she hissed, grabbing for his hand. He shoved the keys deep in his front jean pocket.

Quinn laughed.

"Clearly you don't know me very well," she said wickedly, her hand grabbing for anything in the vicinity of his pocket. He shoved her hand away and cupped a protective hand around anything he didn't want to lose.

"Quinn, be nice," he begged. "I'm just doing what Santana told me to."

"Santana isn't here," she said.

He grunted, trying to keep her behind him, and started yelling for Puck.

Doors flew open all down the hall and Puck and Santana collided in the hallway. Santana shoved Puck hard into the wall and stormed past him. He made a grab for her and missed her hair, but caught the back of her shorts and inadvertently pantsed her.

"You fucking asshole," she squealed, tugging them back up.

He laughed.

"Like I haven't seen that ass before," he said, refusing to turn loose.

Brittany came out and saw Puck's hand and Santana struggling to cover herself and promptly started wailing on Puck's head.

"What are you doing," she hissed, raining open-handed blows wherever she could land them.

"Jesus Christ, Britt," Puck grunted, turning loose of Santana to grab Brittany around the waist and lift her off her feet.

Santana furiously yanked her pants back up properly, then turned around and smacked Puck hard up the side of his head. His ear went bright red and everything was ringing loudly.

"Get your hands off her," she yelled.

"Pucky Poo?" Lola called hesitantly, stepping out to see what all the commotion was about.

"He's got his hand on my boob, San," Brittany tattled, kicking at him.

"Stop hitting me," Puck ranted, now trying to swing a wildly-kicking Brittany into Santana.

"A little help in here would be nice," Sam yelled from the kitchen.

Quinn was still stumbling around behind him, trying to run her hand into his jean pocket for her car keys.

"Give it up, Sam," she grunted loudly. "It's mine."

Brittany stopped kicking and stared at Sam and Quinn, her mouth opened in confused shock.

"Why is Quinn trying to put her hand down Sam's pants?" she asked loudly.

"What?" Santana and Puck both stopped and stared.

Quinn was practically piggy-backing Sam and had one hand reaching for his crotch while the other was pulling on his shirt.

"Get her off me," Sam whined. "She's gonna rip my 'nads off in a minute."

"Give me my fucking keys," Quinn fumed. "He took my car keys."

"Oh hell," Santana said annoyed. She turned and slapped the shit out Puck again.

"Put her down before I cut your dick off," she hissed and Puck instantly dropped Brittany. She promptly turned around and swung at him, too, but he caught her wrist.

"Ha!" he said. That's when Lola slapped him hard on the head.

"Jesus Christ!" he screeched, letting go of Brittany's hand. "What the fuck?"

"Why are you out here with all these girls?" Lola asked, faux-pouting. "You had your hand down her pants."

She glared at Santana who just laughed.

"Bitch, please," she said, scowling. "As if. Sad to say, been there, done that, it weren't all that either."

Lola looked shocked and narrowed her eyes at Puck.

She scoffed and then spun on her heel and stormed back into Puck's room, slamming the door.

"Thanks for that fat mouth," he hissed at Santana.

"Hey!" Sam bellowed again from the kitchen. "Get this drunken nutcase off of me."

Santana grunted and stomped into the kitchen.

"One thing," she said harshly. "I asked you to do one goddamn thing."

She wrapped her arm around Quinn's waist and peeled the struggling blonde off of Sam long enough to allow him to scurry away.

"He's got my phone," she ranted, grabbing after him.

"No baby, he has your keys," she told her, pulling her tight against her. "Which you can't have right now."

"Why not?" Quinn asked, twisting around to look at Santana.

"Because you're drunk as fuck and don't have any business with them," Santana explained patiently.

"I'm not," Quinn said, a pout on her face.

"You are, doll," Santana said, nodding. "I promise, you are."

Quinn just looked confused.

"What is that fucking noise?" Santana asked, frowning. "It sounds like bees."

She leaned into Quinn. It was coming from her boob. She dipped her fingers into Quinn's shirt pocket and pulled out her cellphone. She immediately rolled her eyes.

"This explains a lot," she muttered. "Hello?"

"Thank god," Rachel sputtered. "Who is this?"

"Santana, and I guess I don't have to ask who this is. Hello, Rachel." she said, her mouth turned down.

"Please tell me someone has Quinn under control?" Rachel asked.

"Oh yeah," Santana assured her. "She's about ten minutes shy of puking and passing out. Aren't you sorry you're missing all this fun?

Quinn spied another bottle of tequila and was stretching for it. Santana hauled her back so it was out of her reach.

"Tell her I'm coming to get her," Quinn insisted ridiculously.

"Quinn says to say she's sorry she woke you," Santana said. "And to remember her current condition when considering anything she might have said or promised."

"That's not what I said," Quinn fussed. "Lemme go, I want to go see Rachel."

"Tell Rachel goodnight," Santana said, holding the phone up to her ear.

"Hey chickadee," Quinn said, grinning.

"Quinn, please go lay down," Rachel said. "I'll see you later, okay?"

"No, no, that's not what I want, no, " Quinn protested.

"Yes, I said so, go lay down, right now," Rachel insisted.

"Bossy," Quinn said, giggling. Santana rolled her eyes.

Quinn giggled and then stopped abruptly.

"Rachel," she said, frowning. "I don't feel very good."

Santana grabbed the phone away from her.

"Bye Rachel," she said and tossed the phone on the table. She spun Quinn around and started shoving her down the hall.

"Move or I'm aiming her at you," she yelled at Puck and Brittany. "And I'm not cleaning up anything she does either."

"Hurry," Quinn moaned.

"End of the line, doll," Santana said, pushing Quinn into the bathroom and pulling the door closed. "You're on your own now. "

Almost immediately there were awful noises and Santana winced.

An hour later, Quinn was still locked in the bathroom. Santana, Puck and Brittany were sitting around the kitchen table looking exhausted. Sam was snoring away in the living room and no one knew what had become of Lola.

"Someone should probably check on her," Puck suggested, his head propped up on his hand.

He glanced around at the other two, but no one moved.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" he said, raising an eyebrow.

They all nodded and held hands out in the middle of the table.

"One, two, three," he called and then threw rock.

Santana threw paper.

Brittany threw a thumb's up.

"You lose," Santana said, chuckling and daring him to refute it.

"Fine," he said and drug himself down the hall.

He knocked on the door lightly.

"Q, how you doing?" he asked, loud enough to be heard through the door.

There was no answer.

"Come on, Quinn," he insisted. "Give me a break."

Still no answer.

"Damn it, Quinn," he muttered and tried the knob. It turned and he eased the door open. Quinn was sprawled out on the floor, passed out cold.

"Come on, Q," he said, tugging on a limp arm and hauling her up off the floor and hoisting her easily over his shoulder in a fireman carry. She groaned so he knew she was still alive. He carried her into her room and carefully put her down on the bed.

More groaning and her eyes fluttered.

"Shit," she murmured. "Oh my god."

"Yeah, I know," he said sympathetically. "I'll get you some aspirin and caffeine."

She moaned and waved him away.

He got up and went back into the kitchen.

"Well?" Santana asked looking concerned.

"She was out cold on the floor," he said told her. He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water and a bottle of ginger ale. "She's back in her room now."

Santana started to get up, but Puck waved her off.

"I got it," he said and went back down to Quinn's room.

She was face-down in her pillow. He rummaged around on her desk and found a bottle of aspirin and dumped three into his palm.

"Come on," he said, sitting down next to her. "Try this. It'll make you feel better."

She whined and shook her head.

"Yes, don't make me get reinforcements," he warned.

Quinn grunted and turned over. He helped her sit up. He put the pills in her hand and twisted the cap off the water and handed it to her. She swallowed the medicine and a few large gulps of water, then handed it back to him.

"Good girl," he said, smirking at her. "Boy, you're wrecked."

She just moaned.

"Everything hurts," she whimpered.

He rubbed his hand on her back lightly.

"What the hell were you thinking?" he asked. This was so not like Quinn. He'd already figured out it was centered around Rachel, but then again, all of her sideways behavior lately was. The wicked hot little brunette had Quinn turned inside out.

"You didn't sleep with her did you?" he asked.

Quinn shook her head.

"Almost," she muttered. "Another five minutes."

"Hmmm," was his only comment. He handed her the water back and she sipped it.

"San say I need to tell her what I want from her," she told him.

"And?" he said.

"I think I tried to," she answered, wincing. "I can't remember."

He rolled his eyes. Drunk and horny, he could help with, but hard-core chick drama with feelings was out of his toolbox.

"So now what?' he asked.

"I don't know," she said. "She either breaks it off with him or she doesn't, I guess."

He nodded.

"It's a lot to ask," she said, rubbing her eyes. They felt like they were full of sand. "Christ, what was I ever thinking?"

"You wanna know what I think?" he asked, fully expecting her to tell him to butt out.

"She said that you told her to stay away from me," she said, suddenly remembering that conversation. "Is that true?"

"Not exactly," he said, shaking his head. "I just asked her why she was hanging around and messing with you if she was with that boyfriend of hers."

"What did she say?" Quinn asked.

"That you were special and that she cared about you," he replied, remember Rachel's words. "She was totally looking for you, too."

Quinn sighed heavily and dropped her head into her palms.

"I remember now why I hate this," she muttered. "What were you going to say?"

"I know San is telling you to storm the castle and all," he said thoughtfully. "But I'm thinking you need to do the exact opposite. You need to back off, totally. Just leave her alone and see what she does."

"What's that going to do?" she asked, squinting painfully up at him.

"It's going to force her to come after you, for one," he said.

"I kind of suggested we take a break," she told him, remembering more bits and pieces of their conversation from the previous night. "She freaked."

"I'll bet," he said. "She's getting all possible worlds right now. Why mess with that?"

"I told her we could be just friends," she said. "I think that might be a lie. I can't."

"Yeah, that's shit never works. But I'm telling you, chicks chase hard what they can't get," he told her. "Give her the what up and then back away. Just ease out and see where it goes."

Santana had some valid points but Puck was giving voice to her own internal instincts. If she stepped away, Rachel would come unraveled. She'd either get right or get drastic and that might be the nudge she needed to pick a side.

Quinn took a last sip of her water, then handed it back to Puck.

"Better?" he asked, watching her closely.

She nodded.

"I'm gonna sleep a little, okay?" she asked, easing down onto her pillow. Her head was throbbing but not quite so hard and she didn't feel sick anymore. Dizzy, but it was manageable.

"I'll check in on your before I go," he told her and patted her leg. He left the water and ginger ale on her nightstand with her phone. "Don't worry about Pie. I'll take care of him."

"Thanks, Noah," she said, snuggling her face into her pillow. The cool fabric felt soothing against her temple.

"Think about what I said," he told her and then he walked out, closing her door quietly. "Stop running into walls. Clearly you're not up to it."

She moaned quietly, trying to find sleep. She kept thinking of the sensation of her fingertip brushing over Rachel's bare skin.

Soft. Silky. Soothing.

Sleep.

**=^..^=**


	11. Chapter 11: Paid in Full

LBPDA Chapter 11:  
>Paid in Full<p>

"Mmmm yeah?" Quinn slurred into the phone.

"Do I even dare ask how you are?" Rachel asked.

"Hmmm," Quinn hummed, trying not to move. "Awful."

"I'm so sorry, " Rachel offered sympathetically.

"Not your fault," Quinn muttered, turning over.

She opened her eyes and immediately wished she hadn't. The only thing worse was closing them. The room was still spinning. She groaned weakly.

"I don't suppose you'll let me come over there," Rachel said.

"You're right," Quinn answered. "I won't. Don't."

"That's just as well," Rachel remarked curtly. "I wasn't going to."

Quinn chuckled.

"I don't believe you," she told her. "You're probably sitting in my driveway."

Rachel scoffed loudly.

"Don't flatter yourself," she said.

"Are you going to make me get up and look? "Quinn said, taking a pained breath.

"Well, I'm not in the driveway," Rachel admitted.

Quinn sighed.

There's a key in the front wheel well of my car," she told her and hung up. She tossed the phone onto the bed. She rolled over and closed her eyes. When she woke again Rachel was sitting on the bed next to her, her hand running lightly across her back.

"Hi," she said quietly.

Quinn didn't say anything. She just moved over and put her head in Rachel's lap. Rachel pulled her fingers through the damp, tousled blonde hair then bent and kissed her head gently.

"Tell me what I can do," she said. "To make you feel better."

_Leave him._

"Nothing," Quinn said pitifully.

Rachel sat up but kept petting her. At one point she slipped her hand inside Quinn's shirt, touching lightly on the bare skin of her back.

"You're so warm," she said. "Maybe a shower would feel nice."

Quinn shook her head and regretted it.

"No," she said flatly.

Mojo walked into the room and hopped up on the bed. He proceeded to walk up and down Quinn, apparently to find a comfortable spot to sleep. Quinn kicked at him and whined. Rachel reached out and scooted him gently off the bed. He gave her a hard once-over and then hopped up in the office chair, which spun slowly away. When it came back around again, he was curled in a ball, content.

"You need someone to take care of you," Rachel said lightly.

"Do you mean you?" Quinn asked. Her mood was getting darker.

"Someone," Rachel deflected.

Quinn sighed, exasperated.

"Why are you here?" Quinn asked.

Rachel frowned.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay," she told her.

Rachel had not stopped touching her since she woke.

"I'll live," she said. "Mission accomplish. You're free to roam."

"And that we were okay," she added.

Quinn didn't say anything. Rachel leaned her head down into her.

"Are we?" she asked timidly.

"I want us to be," Quinn confessed.

"But we aren't, are we?" Rachel asked, not moving away.

"God I wish I could quit you," Quinn said in a syrupy drawl and Rachel laughed, hugging her.

Quinn made a half-hearted effort to shrug her off, but Rachel held fast.

"Why can't you be bossy or annoying or a pain the ass?" Quinn continued. "Oh, wait... you are all those things."

Rachel scoffed indignantly, but didn't move away.

"You're no prize either," she insisted.

"Oh please," Quinn said. "I think we've establish my undeniable magnificence."

Rachel buried her face in Quinn's back and snorted loudly.

"You are so full of...," she said happily.

"Wisdom and knowledge," Quinn filled in helpfully.

"Crap," Rachel corrected.

"That, too" Quinn admitted honestly.

"Can I lay down with you?" Rachel asked.

"No," Quinn said immediately.

"Are you serious?" Rachel replied.

"Yes, totally," Quinn remarked.

"Oh,"Rachel said, surprised. She wasn't used to Quinn refusing her and she didn't care for it at all.

"Why not?" she asked, pouting.

"Rachel," Quinn said, pulling away from her and sitting up.

"Oh god," Rachel whined. The tone. "You're gonna scold me about something. I can tell."

Quinn smirked.

"Yeah, I am," she admitted.

"Fine," Rachel said sullenly. "Continue."

Quinn squinted hard at her.

"I gotta get up," she declared, kicking at the covers, fighting out from underneath them.

Rachel shifted slightly so she could move.

"What are you doing?" she asked, but Quinn didn't answer. She rolled out of bed and disappeared into the hall. Rachel heard the bathroom door close firmly.

Quinn was gone for what seem like an hour. At first Rachel fretted about how long she should wait before checking to see if she was alright but then, remembering her attitude, she decided against it altogether. After 20 minutes or so, she slipped off her shoes and settled down on the bed.

When Quinn finally came back in she was dressed. Her hair was damp and Rachel could tell she had showered. She looked exhausted and pale. Quinn settled down next to her eating something from a bowl. It might have been rice.

Rachel just stared at her.

After a few minutes of just eating quietly, Quinn spoke up.

"Do you still have sex with Figment?" she asked, not bothering to look at Rachel at all.

Rachel's mouth popped open and her brow knitted deeply. She was pretty sure they'd covered this topic.

"Why?" she asked

Quinn shrugged.

"Curious," she said.

Rachel just gaped and looked around.

"No," she finally admitted. "Not really."

"What the hell is not really?" Quinn asked, with a dubious side-eye.

"For the sake of argument, let's just say no," Rachel insisted. "Not for a while."

"Why not?" Quinn asked immediately. She knew the subject was making Rachel really uncomfortable, but she wasn't backing off.

"I don't... know," Rachel said slowly.

"Yes, you do," Quinn insisted, not letting her off the hook. "Don't you like it?"

Rachel huffed and shifted over slightly.

"I, I, I don't know," she stammered. "I haven't really thought about it, I guess."

"So is it that you don't like it?" Quinn pressed. "Or that you just don't like it with him?"

Rachel fidgeted, huffed and cast her eyes about before finally answering.

"It's...fine," she said meekly. "I just...I don't...want to."

"Have you thought about doing it with anyone else?" Quinn asked, chewing lazily.

There was more anxious fidgeting and finally she just shrugged.

"Maybe," she admitted slowly. "I guess."

"Me?" Quinn asked, coming right back at her.

Rachel hemmed around but didn't answer. Quinn ate quietly, her eyes working, thoughts going on behind them.

"Do you have any idea how much I wanted to fuck you last night?" Quinn asked flatly.

That produced an audible gasp from Rachel.

Quinn stopped chewing, but didn't look directly at Rachel. She heard the brunette's breath stutter. She could feel her whole body tense and could sense her panic. After a few long, silent, awkward minutes she started eating again, waiting for Rachel to answer.

"Well, um, I, I didn't... I wasn't," she babbled almost incoherently. Her hands started twitching about; opening and closing, smoothing the hem of the dress she was wearing, pulling at the threads on the blanket. "I mean, I...it was...I just."

Rachel took a hard, deep breath.

Quinn put her bowl aside on the dresser and turned to look at Rachel. She was blinking rapidly, clearly flummoxed to the point of almost being paralyzed. Quinn stared her up and down, then rolled her eyes. She pushed her over easily and climbed on top of her, essentially pinning her down. She stared down at her.

"What do you feel right now?" she asked quietly, her eyes boring into Rachel's.

Rachel just shook her head. She was nervous, a little bit afraid and very near tears.

"Do you like this?" Quinn asked, trying to coax her into responding.

Eyes tightly closed, Rachel nodded.

A single tear slipped out. Quinn leaned down and kissed it away. She moved down and kissed Rachel's neck, sucking softly above her shoulder. Rachel moaned and brought her hands up, clutching Quinn's biceps. Quinn kissed up her neck and under her jaw.

"And that?" she asked, keeping her face close to Rachel's. "Do you like the way that makes you feel?"

"Yes," Rachel husked.

Quinn licked the hollow at the base of her throat. She slipped the top two buttons on Rachel's dress and kissed across her chest, letting her lips drop just to the top of her cleavage. She kissed, then licked lightly.

"And?" Quinn asked, "When I do that?"

"Yes, yes," Rachel said, panting heavily. "More."

She raised up and tried to kiss Quinn, but Quinn pulled back. Rachel looked confused.

"Every time you want kisses," Quinn told her sternly. "When you want to snuggle and cuddle and lay next to me, how your feeling now is exactly what it makes me feel like."

Rachel swallowed hard, staring at her with wide doe eyes.

She grabbed Rachel's hand and pulled it over her heart, holding it flat there. The tip of Rachel's index finger was just barely grazing over her nipple.

Quinn's heart was hammering. She could feel her pulse at the base of her throat. Now Rachel felt it, too.

"Do you feel that?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded, blinking rapidly.

"Just keep all this in mind," Quinn told her. "When you ask for things."

Quinn curled her fingers around Rachel's. She felt Rachel's fingertip stroking ever so lightly.

"It's not a game, Rachel," she added. "Not to me. Is it to you?"

"No," Rachel said, shaking her head, her voice shaky, her lips trembling. Her tears spilled over. "No, it's not."

Quinn pulled her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist, letting her lips linger. When she released it Rachel quickly brushed her tears away.

"You should hate me," Rachel said ridiculously, looking up and away. Quinn just smiled.

"Little one, my life would be so much easier if I could hate you," she said. "But I don't and I don't ever want to."

"Don't you want to..." Rachel started and quit. She brought her eyes back to Quinn.

"Want to what?" Quinn asked, nudging her to finish.

"Sleep with me?" she said in a whisper.

"Oh Rachel. Yes, but not just... I don't want just that," Quinn told her. "Look, if I just wanted sex, we wouldn't be having a discussion."

"Why not?" Rachel asked and Quinn smirked.

"Because..." she said dryly.

"Because why?" Rachel asked.

Quinn was never sure if this was part of Rachel flirting or just her being naive. She preferred to think the latter. She leaned down close watching her eyes. Rachel's eyes were the window to everything.

"Because," Quinn said slowly. "You'd be naked and I'd have better things to do with my mouth than engage in pointless conversation."

Rachel's pupils dilated and her cheeks pinked up almost instantly.

"Oh," Rachel said, now looking everywhere but at Quinn. "What do you want then?"

"Don't ask what you don't want to hear," Quinn warned her. "Chickadee, look at me."

Rachel met her eyes again.

"Tell me, " she said, again. "I really want to know."

"Right now I just really, really want to kiss you," Quinn admitted.

"And?" Rachel asked.

"And all the things that come after than," Quinn added. "Really nice things."

Rachel squirmed beneath her.

"But in the bigger sense," Quinn continued. "I want this, right here, all of this to be okay."

Quinn laughed.

"I want me doing this with you to be a part of my morning routine," she confessed. "I want to... eat breakfast with you. I want to pick you up from work. I want to... be the one you think of when good things happen. The one you need when bad things happen. And yes, I want to make love to you and then fall asleep wrapped up in your arms."

Rachel whimpered and looked away. Then she squeezed her eyes shut. Quinn brushed her long, dark hair back. She trailed her fingertips down the side of Rachel's neck then she leaned down and followed with her lips, just barely grazing and finally pulled away.

"I want you to want all that, Rachel," she told her, longingly confessing her heart's desire. "I want you to not be scared and not settle for things and to be amazing and, more than anything else, I want you to just be with me. With me, Rachel. Be with me."

Rachel turned back and they stared at each other.

"The question now is, 'What do you want?' " Quinn asked her.

Rachel swallowed hard, flexing her fingers on Quinn.

"Just say it, Rachel," Quinn urged. "Even if it's only just the sex, say it."

"Please, " Rachel said.

"Please what?" Quinn asked.

"Quinn," she said, "Please, please just kiss me."

She wanted Quinn.

She wanted to touch her and kiss her and have her do the same to her. She couldn't think of anything else. Quinn was asking for things, big, life-changing things, hard decisions and Rachel was still so fixated on the physical she couldn't fathom anything else. No one had ever made her feel the way Quinn did. It was exciting. It was terrifying. It was like fire – she was afraid of it and knew it could hurt her, maybe even kill her, but she couldn't stop touching it. Quinn was fire.

Quinn groaned and dropped her head into Rachel's chest. Rachel's hands move up into her hair.

"Please, just once, like you said," she begged. "Like you want to."

Quinn raised her head and looked at her.

Santana's words were swirling through her head.

_Just once, let her see what she's missing. It's only a lie if you don't mean it._

Without giving herself time to think and talk herself out of it, she put her mouth over Rachel's. She immediately went for Rachel's full lower lip, pulling it between her own. Rachel's hands started roaming and Quinn quickly grabbed them, holding them down. She switch back and forth from Rachel's bottom lip to the top and back. Rachel would try to lick and make the kiss deeper, but Quinn wouldn't let her, she'd pull away or shake her head. Rachel would whimpered and stop. After a few minutes, it would start again.

Without even realizing, possibly out of instinct, Quinn allowed her knee to creep up until it was poised midway between Rachel's thighs. Rachel squeaked at the contact, then closed her eyes again and wrapped her arms around Quinn's neck. Squinting tightly she moved herself slowly down, sparks exploding, inch by agonizing inch, groaning when she hit the perfect spot. In the dress she was wearing there was nothing between Quinn's leg and the relentless throbbing between her thighs except the thin cloth of her panties and Quinn's worn jeans.

Quinn realized quickly what she was doing and she tried to pull away, but Rachel held fast to her.

"No, please," she begged, burying her face in Quinn's neck. "Let me."

She clutched at Quinn, pulling hard against her, grinding herself down against Quinn's thigh.

"Oh my god," she gasped, hands twisting in Quinn's hair.

"This is not what I was trying to do," Quinn hissed, feeling Rachel sliding against her. "This is.. not how I want it to be."

"I need you," Rachel panted. "Oh my god, Quinn."

A few minutes more. She was so close.

Rachel moaned loudly. Quinn closed her eyes and kissed her, hard, angry now. Part of her wanted nothing more than to say, "Fuck it, little girl. I'll give you want you so obviously want and forget anything else: Wham, bam, thanks, here's your hat. Oh yeah, sorry about your cat."

When Rachel started rubbing her whole body against hers, Quinn growled and tore herself away. She still wanted something more than just this.

"Shit," she hissed.

Rachel fell back with a pained groan.

"This is why you can't be here... Rachel," Quinn said, sitting up on the side of the bed. She was literally shaking. "Clearly neither of us has any goddamn self control."

Rachel scrambled up behind her, kissing the back of her neck, her arms wrapping around her chest.

"That was... I can't even," she said incoherently. She was still vibrating. "That was..."

"That was... very stupid," Quinn said angrily, mostly with herself. "It shouldn't have happened."

Rachel was hanging over her shoulder, stroking her hair. Quinn tipped her head away, but didn't get up.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please don't be mad," Rachel said anxiously. "I couldn't stop. I just... when I'm around you..."

Quinn sighed. She felt like shit and just wanted to go back to sleep.

"Rachel, you should go home," she told her quietly.

"No," Rachel said adamantly, shaking her head. "No, please let me stay."

"If you just want sex Rachel, say so." Quinn told her. "Just admit it. We'll fix this right here, right now and you can go about your life."

Rachel whined and pressed her face against Quinn's back.

"That's not all I want , " she said. "It's just you make me feel... things."

Quinn turned and looked back at her.

"Is he the only person you've ever been with?" Quinn asked seriously.

Rachel started that rapid blinking, then she got that lost, broken look. Finally, she shook her head.

"Almost," she said so softly Quinn barely caught it.

"Oh Rachel," she said and reached her hand back, sifting it through Rachel's tousled hair.

"Do you have to do everything the hard way?" Quinn asked with a broken laugh.

"Yes," Rachel said, laughing in spite of herself.

Santana's voice was churning around in her head again and Quinn pushed it away. She dropped her face into her hands, moaning quietly. Her headache was back again, not that it had ever really gone away.

"Here," Rachel said, scooting back. "Just come here."

She pulled on Quinn, tugging her back down. Quinn didn't have the strength to resist. She curled up tightly, facing away from Rachel. Once she was settled, Rachel spooned up against her, draping her arm over her waist, sliding their fingers together.

"Just sleep, hon," she said softly. "Sleep for now."

"You got what you wanted again, chickadee," Quinn mused. "I'm starting to see that's a pattern."

Rachel smiled, but didn't say anything.

"Don't molest me," Quinn teased.

Rachel snuggled into her hair.

"No promises," she said, laughing lightly, and she threaded one leg through Quinn's.

Quinn pulled her hand up and kissed the inside of her wrist again.

"Such a fucking mess," she muttered, leaning back into Rachel, who hugged her.

"Sleep, Quinn," she scolded.

"Bossy," Quinn murmured.

"You have no idea," Rachel said, lips against her shoulder.

Quinn chuckled.

"You don't scare me," she told her.

"Right back at you," Rachel said. "I can hold my own with you."

Quinn smiled and closed her eyes. After a few minutes, she turned over. Rachel looked confused. She was afraid she was going to try and send her away again. If she did, eventually she'd have to go. Instead, Quinn stared at her, then she narrowed her eyes and pointed a scolding finger.

"Behave," she said in a soft, but stern tone.

Rachel nodded.

Quinn took a handful of Rachel's hair and sifted it in her fingers.

"So beautiful," she said, shaking her head like she still couldn't believe it.

She licked her lips and Rachel's breath quickened because she knew.

Quinn kissed her, not quite like she wanted to, but close. She kept kissing her until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, then she put her head down on Rachel's chest and fell asleep to the sound of her heart beating.

Rachel leaned back and stared at the ceiling.

There was no doubt now about what Quinn was feeling, what she was saying, what she was offering.

Rachel, be with me.

She could hear Quinn's sultry voice in her head: Your move, chickadee.

**=^..^=**

Puck pulled in the driveway just in time to see Rachel backing out. She gave him a small smile and brief wave both of which he returned. He pulled into his usual spot and got out, pausing to watch while she drove away. Then he closed the door and went into the house. He expected to find Quinn up and around and was surprised when he didn't see her anywhere.

He walked down the hall to find her door closed. Undaunted, he knocked lightly. When she didn't answer, he tried the knob and when it turned, he pushed the door open. Quinn was curled on top of her covers, full-dressed, sleeping soundly.

"Hmm," he grunted, closing the door gently.

He walked back into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator and stood staring. Checking his palette, he called. Finally, he started digging ingredients out and piling them on the counter. An hour later when Quinn emerged from her den, he had dinner simmering on the stove and was putting the finishing touches on the various accoutrements.

Quinn slumped into a chair at the table, pulling her knees up against her chest.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She nodded.

"Thank God," he teased. "I thought I'd have to eat all this myself."

"I'll help," she said quietly.

"Too bad Rachel cut out," he added. "She could have sampled my fine cuisine."

He pronounced it like "cousin" to see if he could get a rise out of Quinn, but she just grunted, rubbing her eye with the heel of her hand.

"Did you see her?" she asked.

"Just to give her my 'sup' nod," he admitted.

More nodding from Quinn. Now she was rolling her head on her knee.

"So I guess you took Santana's advice, huh?" he said, testing the waters.

"Sort-of," she answered without looking up. "Not exactly."

"Okay," he said, twirling his knife around in the air. "I'll pretend I understand what that means."

She chuckled.

"I haven't tapped that yet," she said, putting it in terms he could understand.

His eyes widened suspiciously. Rachel certainly had that guilty "bed-tumbled" look when she left and, for that matter, so did Quinn.

"But I did put it out there," she volunteered. "It was an option."

He rolled his eyes.

"Like there were others?" he asked.

She tipped her head and cracked her neck.

"Yeah, one," she told him.

"Alright," he said, frowning. "And so now what's the plan?

"I listen to you," she admitted to his surprise.

"For real?" he asked.

She nodded.

"It's out there," she said, just needing to hear it out loud. "She can do with it what she will. Whenever her contract is up, that's it."

She could feel his eyes on her. She didn't have to see him to know the look she was getting.

"Seriously," she added.

"No more cozy little breakfast, no more sneaking off on frustrating little rendezvous? No more wrestling and rubbing?" he asked, his tone giving him away. "I don't believe it."

"I don't care," she told him with a sad sigh. She tipped her head back on the chair and immediately wished she hadn't.

"Whatever happened to that phone book-sized set of maintenance instructions?" he reminded her helpfully.

She smiled.

"She has it," she said. "She sure has it."

"God, and you're good with that?" he said, grimacing. "The whining, the crying, the... everything?"

"Everything," she admitted wistfully, then realized how sappy and stupid she sounded and squared herself up.

"Whatever," she said dismissively. "It was all about the kissing. She just wanted someone to pay her attention."

"Oh right," he said. "Cause you're so goddamned warm and fuzzy."

"Shut up," she scoffed. She picked up the newspaper and flung it in his direction.

Pages separated and fluttered everywhere. Both Loki and Mojo came running in and started skidding on them across the floor, shredding them. Eventually they skidded into each other and there was the obligatory hissing and swatting before they both moved off to neutral territory.

"I can see that court-mandated anger management is paying off, too," he teased, waving a pot-holder-covered hand. "Yeah, yeah, I know...fuck me."

She laughed.

"Oh, I did do you a solid," he said, wiping his hands on his jeans. He reached into his pocket and fished out a media card and held it out to her. "From Rachel's, the trailcam."

Her eyes brightened and she snatched it from his hand and scrambled away from the table without another word.

"Thank you, Puck," he muttered to himself. "You're the best, Puck. I don't know how I'd manage without you, Puck."

She piled into her office chair and cued up her laptop. She slipped the media card into the slot and loaded the video.

"Hey Puck," she yelled, watching the buffer bar scroll across the screen.

"Yeah?" he yelled back, waiting.

"You rock." she told him.

"About time someone noticed," he countered and smiled. "I'm pretty damned awesome."

She pulled the mouse over and started scanning through the grainy video carefully. Cat, wrong color. Cat, too small. Ugh, rat. It went in and came back out empty-handed and scuttled away. She scanned and felt herself nodding off so she rewound and started from the rat again. Nothing, nothing, nothing. There, right there. First it was a shadow, it came and went and vanished. Nothing, nothing, Back again, a quick glimpse of fur – it was definitely bigger than a squirrel. Nothing, nothing. The camera blinked out then came back on. Hopefully it was just a glitch in the media card. Just when she was getting hopeful she heard the chittering.

"Fuck," she said under breath. She knew that sound.

There was a glimpse of fur again, more noises, then a face popped up. It was a raccoon. It immediately walked around the trap, suspicious since Puck had built it up and moved it. It was waiting to see what, if anything, was lurking in wait. When it was sure the coast was clear, it went to work. First it worked the string tying the bait with fingers and sharp little teeth. Once it fell, it pulled the chicken leg to the far corner and patiently stripped all the meat off the bone.

"Yup," she said, watching. "That's the M.O., you little shit."

"So?" Puck asked, leaning on the door.

"Waste of effort," she said with obvious frustration.

"Squirrel?" he asked.

"Raccoon," she correctly.

"That would do it," he said, nodding. "Sorry, Q."

"It is what it is," she told him. "I wasn't all that surprised."

"Still," he said sympathetically. "It was worth a shot. You ready to eat?"

"I'll be there in a second," she told him and he nodded and went back to the kitchen.

She watched a few more minutes, then scanned through to the end. She ejected the card and closed her computer and went to join Noah for dinner.

"Well," Quinn said, pushing her plate away. "That was the second best thing that's happened to me all day."

She leaned back in her chair and groaned, rubbing her stomach. She was full almost to point of being uncomfortable. At least her headache was finally gone.

"Second?" Noah groused, pouting. "What the hell was the first."

Quinn quirked her brow and stared at him. He squinted at her, momentarily baffled, then an "aha" look crossed his face and he nodded.

"I thought you didn't sleep with her," he recounted.

She shook her head.

"It's the journey, not the destination," she observed. "There's nice stops along the way."

He looked at her like she had just turned purple.

"I hate when you get all fortune cookie and shit," he said.

She laughed but mostly because it sounded like something Santana might say.

"It's just nice being with her," she said honestly. "She's smart and funny and, I don't know, cuddly."

"Who in the fuck are you?" he said, a look of horror on his face.

She rolled her eyes hard at him.

"Shut up," she said weakly. She was trying not to get into a fight with him, but he was pressing buttons pretty quickly.

"Seriously, you're a mess, Q," he said shaking his head. "Just step out before you get..."

"Before I get what?" she snapped.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "Fuck, run over by a truck. You're walking all around all sideways with your head in the damn clouds."

She scoffed.

"Hit by a truck," she muttered under her breath. Like that would ever happen. He was being ridiculous. "I'm fine. Everything's fine. I gotta go."

She pushed back from the table abruptly, stood up and carried her plate to the sink.

"What, where are you going" he sputtered. "This is the kind of whack shit I'm talking about."

"Look, I've been a freaking useless slug all day," she explained. "I just need to do something. That's all. Thanks for cooking. If you leave the dishes, I'll do them when I get back."

"Jesus, now you're scaring me," he said, holding his hands up in mock terror.

She smirked and chuckled wryly.

"You're going over there, aren't you?" he asked suddenly.

"I, I'm just gonna pull the camera," she insisted. "There's no point in leaving it. Or the trap either really for that matter. Look, I just... it'll bother me, you know it will."

Some of that was true. It was a loose end now and she'd pick at it until it frayed if she didn't fix it.

"Let me go with you," he suggested, tossing his napkin on the table and grabbing up dishes. She was already shaking her head.

"No," she said adamantly. "I don't need a babysitter. I'm...good. I'll be fine, really."

He knew there was no point in arguing with her, she wouldn't change her mind.

"Thanks again," she said. She grabbed her keys and was gone before he could say anything else.

Normally she wouldn't do this at this hour, but she needed something to keep her hands and mind occupied. At least this way she could be productive as well as distracted. Besides, it wasn't like Rachel would expect her at this hour so she wasn't like to stumble onto her.

She parked her truck along side the dumpster enclosure and got out. Thankfully Puck had fixed the screaming door when he replaced the window. She also noticed he'd replaced the missing seat belt. She'd have to remember to throw some cash at him for everything. Before she got too far into the narrow passage between the dumpster and the concrete enclosure she took a good long look around, both inside and out side. She didn't need any kind of weirdness sneaking up on her – animal or human. It looked deserted. Satisfied, she shimmied past the dumpster and immediately went to work disconnecting the camera. Once she had it free, she put it on the ground and turned to pack up the trap. That's when movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

"Oh shit," she said quietly, her stomach leaping up into her throat. There was a spotlight shining down into the area, so she could see pretty well. She took a few cautious steps toward the trap, then stopped short, peering over it.

She did an honest-to-goodness double-take. Then a smile slowly crept its way across her face.

"Hello there," she said in hushed tones. "It's nice to finally meet you."

She reached into her shirt pocket and pulled out a can, then she knelt down and cracked the top.

**=^..^=**

When she dialed Rachel's number, Quinn was surprised to see her hands were literally shaking. Nervous energy, adrenaline, that's all it was.

It rang for a long time before Rachel finally picked up. Quinn was starting to think she wasn't home.

"Hello?" she said.

Quinn frowned. Why such a formal greeting – she had to know who was calling?

"I'm coming over, " Quinn told her, barely able to contain her excitement.

Rachel hesitated.

"Um, well," she said, uncharacteristically quiet. "It's just, well, Finn is here."

Quinn chuckled at Rachel's nervousness. For once, it was probably unwarranted.

"I don't care," Quinn told her. It was the truth, even if the angles and shades were a little fuzzy. "I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Quinn, I..." Rachel stammered, but Quinn just disconnected the call.

She laughed out loud. She could already imagine Rachel biting that deliciously full lower lip and fretting, wondering how to make this situation work.

"So maybe you'll get a little taste of awkward for a change, Ms. Berry, " Quinn murmured to herself.

**=^..^=**

"Who was on the phone?" Finn asked.

She wanted to tell him it was none of his business. She wanted to tell him to leave. She wanted to tell him a lot of things but she just couldn't bring herself to do any of them.

"It was Quinn," she told him. "She's coming over."

"I don't like her," Finn said, scowling.

"Yes, Finn," Rachel said with an eye roll and an exasperated sigh. "I think you've mentioned that now, at least a few thousand times already."

"Well, I don't," he repeated. "I would think you could be more considerate about it."

Rachel's lips tightened and her eyes went dark and angry.

"Hello," she snapped. "This is still my house. I happen to like Quinn. If you must know, I happen to like her a lot. In fact, if it wasn't for you she and I ..."

_Say it, just say it. If it wasn't for you..._

The doorbell rang and cut her off before she could finish her thought.

_Damn it, Quinn. She had almost...just shit._

Rachel grunted in frustration. Then she cast an angry glare angrily at Finn, daring him to move or speak. He quite wisely did neither. She huffed and strode to the door and opened it without looking.

"Hey," she said, finding Quinn waiting with a frown.

"You don't check to see who's knocking first?" Quinn asked.

Rachel smirked.

"No, never," she said. "I just fling the door open wide every single time."

"That's about what I thought," Quinn said. "Hi."

She stood staring at Rachel. She couldn't keep the grin off her face and Rachel knew she was up to something.

''What's going on?" Rachel asked suspiciously.

"Aren't you going to ask me in?" Quinn asked, squinting at her.

"Quinn, I..." she started, trying to get her thoughts together.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Rachel, take five steps back so I can come inside," she instructed, leaving no room for refusal.

Rachel moved back and Quinn pushed the door open wide.

"Close your eyes," she said firmly.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked nervously.

Quinn scoffed impatiently. This wasn't as much fun as she'd hoped it might be.

"Rachel, close your eyes. I have something for you. It's going to make you very happy," Quinn said, her voice low. She leaned in closer. "I know how much you want this."

She grazed Rachel's cheek with a fingertip.

"Oh my god, Quinn," Rachel hissed in a whisper. "Finn is in the other room."

Again, Quinn rolled her eyes and chuckled.

"So? This doesn't concern him," she told her. "Not really."

"Of course it does, " Rachel said firmly. "It concerns all of us."

"Rachel!" Quinn said in a harsh whisper, getting tired of the banter. "Stop it, I'm not going to kiss you."

Rachel sputtered, her mouth moving with no sound, brow knitted heavily.

"You aren't?" she asked, quite clearly disappointed.

"No, chickadee, " Quinn said.

"Oh," Rachel said quietly. The pink rose quickly up to her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I thought..."

"I know what you thought," Quinn said, cutting her off. "You thought wrong."

"I'm...so..." she said.

"Uh huh, sorry. Rachel, you need to stop being sorry for things," Quinn said peevishly.

Rachel looked wounded, but Quinn wasn't sorry she said it.

"Rachel," Quinn said again, trying to get her to focus her attention.

"What?" she asked curtly.

"I'm not going to ask you again," Quinn said sternly. "Close...your...eyes."

Rachel inhaled deeply, then fluttered her eyelids shut.

Quinn reached beside the door and picked up the cardboard box. She put it down in front of Rachel and then firmly closed the door. Rachel stood obediently, eyes shut, hands opening and twisting on the hem of her shirt. She was nervously worrying her lip.

Quinn thought seriously about stealing a kiss, but about that time F-Troop strolled into the room.

"What's going on?" he asked, frowning. Quinn put a finger to her lips and he immediately got a scowl on his face.

Quinn ignored him. She bent and unfastened the handle of the box and opened it slightly

"Okay, chickadee, open your eyes," she told her, smiling broadly at her.

Rachel blew out a breath and slowly opened her eyes. She looked at Quinn and then looked down and saw the box. It moved. Just a little at first, then a little more and finally, a lot. The top parted and the scruffy, sulky face of the former-fugitive known as Nicky Arnstein appeared.

Rachel's hands flew to her mouth.

"Oh, Quinn, oh my god, oh, oh," Rachel chanted. She actually rocked back in forth in delight and then bent down and scooped the filthy, lumpy cat out of the box into a hug, raining kisses all over him and sobbing into his fur.

"Nicky, Nicky," she cooed over and over. "I was so worried, so worried."

The cat peered over Rachel's shoulder at Quinn with a bored, almost pained, expression as if to say, "See, see how she is?"

Quinn laughed and quickly covered her mouth with her hand.

_Suck it Arnstein,_ she thought. _You have no idea how good you have it, you silly, spoiled cat._

"Bad. Bad, bad, bad kitty," Rachel said now scolding him and holding him at arm's length, her hands underneath his front legs. Quinn didn't think it was the appropriate time to point out how much cats really _hate _being held like that.

To his credit, the Nickster dangled briefly, taking the reprimand, before he starting kicking and squirmed to be released. Rachel placed him gingerly on the ground. He walked around Rachel a few times, sniffed a few things, then started rubbing against her legs and meowing loudly.

_Liar,_ Quinn thought, _Fat poser. You just want food. I hope she puts you in a sailor suit._

Rachel's eyes found Quinn's and she beamed at her through happy tears. Without a single word, she just threw herself into Quinn's embrace.

"Thank you," she said softly, lips brazenly pressed against Quinn's neck. "Thank you so much. I can't even begin to tell you what this means to me."

Quinn didn't need to be told.

"You're welcome, chickadee," Quinn said, hugging her fiercely. She knew her guest was probably close by, maybe even watching them, but at this moment she didn't even care. She hugged Rachel like she'd never let go, she even lifted her off the ground.

"I can't believe you found him," she said. "You are the cat's meow."

Quinn gave a quiet laugh.

"Good timing," she said honestly. "That's all. Luck and timing, little one."

"I know you never would have stopped looking," Rachel said, her lips pressed to Quinn's ear. "I know it."

Quinn inhaled deeply, but didn't respond. It was true, though she'd never told Rachel as much. Rachel planted a wet kiss on her neck and then stepped back, smiling at her. Nicky came up between them, rubbing against Rachel's legs as if he'd never been gone.

"I'd probably take him to the vet and have him checked out, just to be safe," Quinn suggested.

Rachel was nodding and blinking. She was getting panicked. What if there was something wrong with him? What if he had been bitten by something? What if he ate poison?

Quinn felt Rachel reaching out for her hand, but she didn't make a move to help her find it.

"You might want to bathe him, too," Quinn added. I'd also strongly, strongly suggest dosing him for fleas. You'll be sorry later if you don't."

Rachel was chewing on her thumb nail. She cast a nervous glance at Quinn.

Quinn seriously doubted Rachel could do either task herself given Nicky's size and temperament. Her first instinct was to offer to help her, but she squelched it. She was going to suggest taking him to a groomer when she was interrupted.

"Wow, I guess you really did find him," Finn said, lumbering over to them.

He reached down to pet Nicky and the cat flattened his ears and droned. When the offending hand wasn't removed, he took a vicious swipe at it, narrowly missing. Quinn bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling.

"Nicky, no, no," Rachel said, shaking her finger at him. She dropped down beside him and he started purring.

"Sure looks that way, doesn't it," Quinn said, not giving an inch. "Not bad for a shameless grifter."

"Sorry I doubted you," he mumbled and held out his hand. She looked at him and then glanced over at Rachel, who was still crouched down talking to Nicky and apparently trying to rub all the fur off his head.

"No hard feelings," she said in a monotone, a sour look on her face. She took his hand and viced it, noting happily that his eye bugged out and twitched steadily until she turned it loose.

While Rachel was happily chattering away and preoccupied Quinn decided it was as good a time as any to make her exit. With a dismissive nod to the room's other occupant, she made her way to the door. After pausing for a moment, she worked Rachel's house key off her keyring and place it on the hall table where she was sure to notice it. Her hand was reaching for the doorknob when Rachel realized she wasn't still in the room. She looked anxiously around and saw her at the door.

"Quinn?" she called, scrambling to her feet and rushing after her.

"Hey," Quinn said, not quite meeting her eyes. "I'm just gonna take off."

Rachel smiled and stepped into her. She wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. Quinn held her lightly. She felt Rachel's lips skim her cheek and press firmly beneath her jaw. Her fingers were playing on the back of Quinn's neck.

"Thank you so, so much," Rachel told her. "For everything. I, I can't even imagine...you're so..."

She couldn't find the words she wanted to say and she just tilted her head down on Quinn's shoulder instead.

This was precisely what Quinn was hoping to avoid.

"Let me go, sweetie," Quinn said quietly. She relaxed her grip so Rachel could step back.

Rachel whimpered; a tiny, fragile sound.

"What does that mean?" she asked, afraid to hear the answer.

"It means let me go. You have a guest and I'm intruding," Quinn said plainly.

Rachel tightened her grip, but Quinn didn't return the gesture. Confused, Rachel dropped her arms and stepped back, staring hard at Quinn.

"Q..Quinn?" she said haltingly.

Quinn didn't respond and when Rachel stepped toward her again, she moved back.

"I'm really pleased it all worked out, Rachel," Quinn said, swallowing hard. "I'm very happy... for you."

"Quinn, please..." she said, taking a step toward her again, her hand reaching out.

Quinn smiled.

"Enjoy the rest of your evening," she said. "Goodnight, Rachel."

She turned and pushed the door open.

The last thing Quinn heard as she closed the door was Nicky growling, Finn yelping like a girl and Rachel frantically repeating, "No, no, bad kitty,"

Quinn walked quickly to her car and got in. She hesitated for just a moment, then she backed out and drove quickly away. Rachel heard the tires burning rubber on the pavement. She walked to the window and glanced out, but Quinn was already gone. When she turned away she noticed the house key Quinn left behind on the table. She wasn't expecting that at all.

"Oh," she said quietly, reaching out to touch it. She closed her fingers around it and pulled her fist against her chest. Suddenly everything she was feeling rushed up into her throat and bubbled up into a sob. She rushed past Finn, who called after her, and disappeared into the bathroom shutting and locking the door behind her. She sat down on the edge of the bathtub and held out her palm, staring at the key.

God, metaphors.

Closing her fingers over it again, she pushed her fist against her mouth, dropped her head down and quietly cried.

**=^..^=**

Quinn walked into the house and tossed her keys on the table.

"Hey," Puck said, not looking up from the television.

"Hey," she muttered. She walked into the kitchen and rolled up her sleeves. She turned on the tap and let it heat up, filling the sink. Slowly, methodically, she did the dishes, then wiped down the counters and the table.

Drying her hands, she walked into the living room and stared at the television.

"So did you get the camera?" Puck asked.

"Uh huh," she said, her voice a dull monotone. "It's done."

"We'll set another location, maybe in the back." he suggested.

She was shaking her head.

"I found him," she said quietly.

Puck was only half listening.

"Uh huh," he said, still engrossed in the movie he was watching. "Yeah."

"It's done," she repeated.

With that, she dropped the dish towel in the floor and walked to her room. She shut the door and turned the lock, something she almost never did. When Puck knocked a short time later she didn't answer. He tried the knob and found it locked and frowned. After one more attempt he decided to leave her alone. Pie slept in his room that night on a pile of blankets.

Confused and unhappy, Loki slept on the floor in the hall between the two rooms when he wasn't frantically pacing and yowling at the top of his lungs.

**=^..^=**

She thought the first night would be the hardest, but it wasn't. Maybe it was because she was still so tired and sick. She slept, hard. The few times her phone chirped she didn't even stir.

As hard as it was she didn't even look at her messages the next morning. Instead, she went about her morning routine, then, on irrational impulse, there was some self-medicating and she went straight back to bed and slept for another eight hours.

It was late afternoon when she walked into the kitchen and handed her cell phone to Puck.

"Read them, " she told him, wiggling her phone at him. The message waiting button was flashing rapidly.

He just stared at her.

"Read them. Listen to 'em. Whatever. If it's just...if it's not about bleeding or dying, just save them...somewhere. Maybe I'll look at them sometime, just...later."

He didn't move.

"God, come on," she whined. "It's...just do it."

He took the phone. He pressed buttons and his eyes scanned the screen. She watched his face at first but even his reactions, as minimal as they were, proved too much temptation and she walked away waiting for him to finish.

"What about the voice mail?" he asked.

"God damn," she muttered. She took her phone and signed into her voice mail.

"Save 'em." she told him, walking away again.

After a few minutes he handed her phone back to her.

"Okay," was all he said.

"Okay," she repeated. She walk away a few steps then turned and came right back.

"Oh god," he muttered, trying to act like he didn't see her.

"Just, I mean, is she...?" Quinn said, panting anxiously.

"She's okay, Quinn," he said, putting his hands on the counter and staring down. "She's upset, she's... hurting, but she's okay."

"Good," she said nodding quickly. "Okay, that's good. Fine, right? It'll just work itself out."

"Yeah," he agreed. "Give it some time."

"Okay, sure," she said. "Thanks."

"You might...," he said reluctantly. "You might want to...turn that off."

He motioned toward her phone.

"It'll probably be easier," he added.

She just nodded, then turned and went back to her room. She didn't come out again for the rest of the day.

He exhaled deeply and kicking himself for not erasing Rachel's messages.

They started out pretty good. Hi. Just checking in. Thanks again. Wish you would pick up. Chit chat, small talk.

Then they took a turn for the melodramatic. Why? Did I do something? Lots of apologizing. I understand if you don't want to see me. I'm getting what I deserve. I shouldn't have taken advantage yesterday. It's been so long.

By the last of them – the ones from early morning, the couple of voice mail messages – Rachel was pretty much pure, raw pain. Heart wide open and bleeding profusely. Boyfriend or no boyfriend, if Quinn saw those, heard those, she'd be out the door, running on foot if necessary. He wanted to erase them, but he was too afraid of what she'd do to him if he did.

The next morning was a whole different state of mind. She practically yanked the door to her room off the hinges and it had gone steadily downhill from there. Everyone with an ounce of sense or self-preservation instinct gave her wide, wide berth. Even Loki scrambled under the couch when she walked into the room, watching until the coast was clear before coming out.

**=^..^=**

Brittany was in tears when Puck walked through the office door. When he asked what was wrong she just stared at him and shook her head. He scowled heavily and stalked toward Quinn's office. For two days she had been a holy terror; an absolute raving lunatic. Everyone avoided her if at all possible. He stayed away from the house hoping that eventually she would calm down and come to her senses, but apparently that wasn't happening.

"What the fuck, Quinn?" he demanded angrily.

She rolled her eyes up at him, but didn't say anything.

"Well?" he asked again.

"What in the hell are you talking about?" she said, finally.

"Why is Brit crying?" he snapped. "What did you do?"

Quinn frowned.

"I didn't do anything," she protested.

It was the truth. She hadn't even spoken to Brittany or anyone for that matter. "If you're so concerned, go ask her."

He grunted and stomped off. He went back into the lobby, sat down in front of Brittany's desk and just stared at her.

"I'm not telling you anything," she said, refusing to look up at him.

He kept staring. He leaned his elbows on her desk and stared.

When she tried to get up, he put his foot on the wall, blocking her way and she was forced to sit back down again.

"I can't," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not supposed to."

He sighed deeply, but still didn't blink. He could do this for hours. He practiced – it was all part of his Intimidator schtick.

Brittany whimpered.

Not taking his eyes off of her, he pushed the tissue box slowly across her desk. She glanced up at it and her face crumpled.

"She's so miserable," she wailed, snatching up a handful of tissues, one right after another and molding them into a ball. She blew her nose loudly and dumped the soggy mess into the trash can.

Puck grimaced but kept staring.

Brittany tugged up more tissues.

"Everybody's unhappy, everybody's mad," she said, shaking her head. "Please stop staring at me. It's making me feel like throwing up.

He blinked and glanced away.

"What are you talking about?" he asked, fairly certain he was going to be sorry he ever started the whole thing.

"Quinn's very mean and unhappy, San is very mad and unhappy, and Rachel is just very unhappy," she said, sniffling. "You're just mad. And staring."

"And why are you crying?" he asked.

"Because I'm confused," she said. "And that's making me sad. And hungry."

He rubbed his forehead hard. There were questions, but questions sometimes made it worse where Brittany was concerned. Still, the last two days had been slightly shy of hell so how much worse could it get? Realizing that, he plowed ahead.

"Okay, so we ALL know what Quinn's malfunction is. What is San mad about?" he asked.

"She's mad at Quinn," Brittany said, staring at him now, wide-eyed.

He waited.

"Because...?" he pressed.

"Because Rachel's unhappy," she said.

Waiting.

"And that affects San... how?" he asked, trying to keep his cool.

"Because Rachel met San for lunch," she said. "And instead of talking about San stuff, she mostly cried the whole time because Quinn doesn't talk to her anymore."

"Oh," he said quickly.

God help him if Santana ever found out he had something to do with that last part.

"And why are you confused?" he asked.

"Because I don't understand." she said, tearing up again.

"What?" he said, slumping in his chair. "What don't you understand."

"If Rachel likes Quinn and Quinn likes Rachel," she said. "Why are they acting like this?"

Again, he flinched.

"I don't know, B," he said, looking away. "Because Quinn's stubborn and Rachel's something of an idiot? That's my guess."

"I don't think that's it at all," Brittany said. She looked at him and frowned. Puck could be so dense sometimes.

Everybody kept trying to blame Rachel, but Brittany didn't. She understood.

Rachel was scared. This was all brand-new to her. She just wanted someone to help her find her cat and instead here was this whole new life opening up under her feet. And then there was Quinn. She was now standing at the bottom of a cliff saying, "Jump, I'll catch you" and wondering why Rachel didn't just dive off.

Quinn was scared, too. Quinn was scared for different reasons though. And now she was mad on top of everything else. She felt like Rachel was pushing her away.

Brittany wanted to try and explain it to her, but every time she went near Quinn she just glared at her and made her stomach hurt.

Santana said not to bother or worry about it because Quinn liked being a...matador. Of course, that just made her more confused because she didn't understand what bullfighting had to do with any of this.

"Get your things," Puck said, standing up. "Let's go get something to eat."

She smiled.

"Can we have french fries?" she asked, sniffling.

"The world is your oyster," he said.

"I don't like oysters," she told him, frowning. "They taste like snot."

"The world is your tater tot then, " he said, trying again.

"Cheese fondue," she suggested. "Can the world be my cheese fondue."

"It absolutely is, Brit," he nodded. "It absolutely is."

"Should we tell Quinn?" she suggested nervously.

"Um, that would be hell no," he said, giving a hand wave. "She can get her own sunshine."

"Do they sell that around here?" she asked as he steered her out the door.

Talking with women always made his head hurt.

**=^..^=**

Santana walked through the doors and found the front room empty. She walked into the back and it was deserted as well. Quinn's car was in the lot so she knew she was there. No doubt she was holed up in her office, practicing her Molly Fucking Martyr of the Moment acceptance speech.

"Fuck bees," she muttered under her breath.

Without pausing to knock she burst through her office door and dropped herself into the chair in front of her desk. The puckered expression on Quinn's face told her she'd guessed right.

"Rude much" Quinn asked, glaring at her.

"Bitch much?" Santana snapped back.

They both sniffed simultaneously and gave each other the hand. It was as synchronized as though they'd practiced for months.

Santana broke first. She pulled out her cell phone, cued up a video and pushed play, cranking up the volume.

"I,I,I, can't even..." came through the speaker followed by full-blown, relentless sobbing.

Quinn recognized it from the first syllable. She closed her eyes and swiveled around, putting her back to Santana.

"Turn it off," she warned.

"She won't talk to me," Rachel said through her blubbering. "I can't get her to pick up the phone."

"Santana," Quinn said again, her voice forced through clenched teeth. "Turn it off or I swear..."

Santana hit pause.

"Why whatever is the matter?" she asked, full of mock innocence. "I thought you'd be excited to hear how my lunch meeting went."

She hit play.

"Can you please ask her to call me?" Rachel pleaded. "I know I don't have any right to ask, but just..."

Quinn jumped up and made a lunging grab for the phone, but Santana was expecting as much and yanked it out of reach.

Rachel's broken-hearted sobbing echoed around the office.

"Goddamn it, San," Quinn yelled. "Turn it fucking off."

Santana shook her head and killed the video. Quinn glared at her.

"Fuck you for doing that," she hissed.

"Fuck you right back," she barked. "You just couldn't leave it alone."

Quinn picked up her coffee mug and hurled it out the door. It smashed into something and disintegrated.

"Feel better?" Santana asked dryly.

"Not at all," Quinn admitted and fell back into her seat, pulling her arms up over head.

Santana sat back down, waiting.

"Where is everyone?" she asked, remembering the office was deserted.

Quinn shrugged.

"If it helps, you look much worse than she does," Santana told her.

Quinn chuckled lightly.

"Then again, she was better going in." she added smirking.

"True," Quinn admitted, almost smiling.

"Call her," Santana said non-nonchalantly. "Pick up the damn phone and call her."

Quinn glared at her.

"And we were doing so well, too," she hissed.

"I'm serious, " Santana said emphatically.

"So am I," Quinn countered.

"Get up," Santana said, jumping to her feet.

"No," Quinn said, rolling her eyes.

"I'm serious, Q," she said, softening her tone. "Shut this miserable place up and come with me."

Quinn eyed her suspiciously

"Where" she asked slowly.

"I don't know about you," Santana said. "But I need a drink."

Quinn scoffed.

"Seriously, doll," Santana insisted. "You're much better company when you've been drinking. Come on., my treat."

"No Rachel talk, " Quinn said.

"Okay, no Rachel talk, " Santana agreed, fingers crossed firmly.

"And you will not play that fucking video again?" Quin continued.

"Nope," Santana said. "Girl Scout's honor."

No need, she'd already emailed it Quinn's home and work email.

"You were never a fucking Girl Scout," Quinn sneered.

"True," Santana said. "But goodness knows I've eaten my share of their cookies. That should count for something."

She smirked.

"I'm telling Brittany, " Quinn said, feigning shock.

"Like she doesn't know," Santana said, shrugging. "Come on, we got business anyway."

Quinn looked at her and narrowed her eyes.

"For reals, Q, " she said. "Word is that our little senior project is making the rounds again."

"Oh," Quinn said, nodding. She'd quit even thinking about their script. She left all that up to Santana.

"Call Brit and tell her you're leaving," Santana instructed.

"I can't," Quinn admitted.

"Why not?" Santana asked, confused.

"I don't have my phone," Quinn told her sheepishly.

"Why not?" Santana demanded.

"Because..." Quinn said, but didn't finished.

"That's pathetic, Quinn," Santana scoffed. "I mean seriously, ridiculously pathetic."

Santana pushed her non-too-gently through the office toward the door.

"Were you serious...?" Quinn asked, locking the front door. "Does she really look okay?"

Santana laughed. Quinn had lasted a whole 15 minutes before bringing up Rachel again. That was actually 13 minutes longer than she thought she would.

O.M.G, you two idiots deserve each other, Santana thought, rolling her eyes.

"Yes, Romeo," she said, nudging her. "Aside from a massive case of annoying, whiny glazed donut, she looked pretty smoking."

Quinn didn't now if that made her happy or sad.

If nothing else, she knew that Rachel was as miserable without her as she was without Rachel. That had to be a step in the right direction, didn't it?

**=^..^=**


	12. Chapter 12:Good Customer Service

Chapter 12: Good Customer Service

Quinn was face down on the table, having exhausted herself somewhere between raving and moaning. Brittany was quietly stroking her hair.

"And you really thought this was a good idea?" Puck asked loudly, staring at Santana with disdain from across the glass-strewn table. "As if she's not zig-zagged enough so you think alcohol cures all?"

"Well what was your plan asshole?" she snapped. "Let her hole up in her room for another week and pout?"

Santana was still fuming that he was even there at all. She hadn't invited him, but Brittany had innocently let it slip that she was meeting Santana and Quinn when she left the office. Puck tagged along with her and was livid to find an intoxicated mess of a Quinn in Santana's happy charge. She started out laughing and flirty, but by the fourth round was a morose, sulking lump much like she'd been at work. So much for mood enhancement through libations.

"It wasn't a week. It was barely two days, " he corrected, throwing a hand up in exasperation. "Besides, that's just how she deals with stuff."

He tipped up his beer angrily. As far as he was concerned Santana excelled at getting Quinn all stirred up and then bailing leaving him to deal with the fall-out. No doubt he would be suffering the consequences of this episode for days.

"Don't talk to me about how she deals with things," Santana fumed, narrowing her eyes menacingly at him. "Trust me, I know how that woman deals with shit. I've been through more drama with her than you'll ever know about."

"I've been through enough," he insisted, leaning across the table in a failed attempt to get up in her face. "You aren't the only one who's been there for her."

"Oh really, and how just many romances-gone-wrong have you nursed her through?" Santana asked with a sneer. "Let's see, oh yeah. None!"

"That's bullshit," Puck spat back. "There was that artist, you know, the foreign one."

He sat back smugly convinced he'd taken a point.

"You mean the one who forgot to mention a wife?" Santana said firmly.

"Yeah," he confirmed, still obviously feeling like he'd one-upped Santana.

"You mean the one that YOU introduced her to?" Santana sneered, spiking her brow in derision. "Oh ya, great example, shithead."

Puck blanched visibly.

Details, chicks always remember damn details.

"It's not like I knew that," he said defensively.

Santana scoffed.

"It's not a contest," Brittany said quietly.

"Look, you're not the one who has to live with her," he said trying to change the subject. "She doesn't need this shit."

He motioned to the mostly-empty drink glasses littered across the table.

"So you say," Santana said with a shrug.

He slammed his hand down hard on the table in frustration, jarring glasses and sloshing their contents.

"Yeah," he said loudly. "So I say."

"Yeah, I don't need this shit," Quinn muttered, jolted back to life by Puck's angry display. She was bleary-eyed and slurring her words badly. "He'zz ride, I don't need anything."

"We know, doll," Santana said, shaking her head. The evening had started out well, with Quinn relaxed and happy, but a few drinks in things had taken a turn for the scowling and whiny.

"Ish jus sall bullshit," Quinn declared, now slamming her hand on the table and spilling drinks in the process. Puck and Santana scrambled to upright glasses and mop up expensive puddles. During the chaos Quinn spotted Santana's unfinished tequila and grabbed for it, but Santana smoothly lifted it out her reach.

"No more for you, Q," she said patiently, mentally counting the beats and waiting for the angry tirade.

"I can if I wan' to," Quinn exploded predictably. "Ish my life. I'm a dult."

"Oh here we go," Puck muttered under his breath, smirking.

"Yes, yes, we know. You're a dult alright," Santana said, eyes rolling.

"Damnz ssstraight," Quinn replied. "I know what's breast."

"Yeah, Rachel's breast," Puck said with a snicker and Santana threw her fork at him.

"Shud da hell up, No...uh," she stammered. "You, too, San. Fuggin tell me..."

Quinn trailed off into angry muttering.

"Fine, you want to be a dult, be a fucking dult," Santana said, sliding the drink in Quinn's direction."Have at it, baby."

She did it mostly just to spite Puck, who scowled at her immediately.

Quinn went right for it and Puck was half-way up, but this time it was Brittany who interceded, grabbing her hand.

They all tensed and looked at her. Under the circumstances, Santana was at once concerned with what Quinn's reaction would be. Puck had the same concerns about both Quinn and Santana, because it could quickly become a chain reaction. Brittany was the only one who seemed nonplussed. She just sat clutching Quinn's hand.

"The fuck, Beeeezzz?" Quinn hissed angrily.

Both Puck and Santana moved to get up but Brittany just pouted at them and shook her head, then she turned her attention to Quinn.

"Fuck beezz, fuck beeezz, fuck beezzz," she was chanting to herself for no reason and still straining her fingers for the elusive glass.

"You don't need that, Quinn," Brittany said. "It won't fix you. Just no."

Quinn wasn't used to coming at Brittany with anything but patience and affection so even in her present state she wasn't sure how to react. She frowned deeply.

"Bud I wan' it," she whined. "Why can't I have the things I wan?"

"I'm sorry you're sad, Quinn," Brittany said. "I wish I could make it better for you."

At that point Quinn just sighed deeply and all the fight went out of her. She dropped her head and Brittany reached out, hugging her against her chest while glaring daggers at Puck and Santana over the top of Quinn's head.

"I miss Rachel," Quinn whispered into the blonde girl's sweater.

"I know you do," Brittany said, tilting her head down against Quinn's. "I know."

"Is she crying?" Puck whispered loudly.

"I don't cry, goddamn it," Quinn yelled, her voice muffled.

"Okay, fine, right, whatever," Puck said, shaking his head. "That's bullshit, by the way."

He made the remark to no one in particular.

"Needless to say she'll be going home with us," Santana said, narrowing her eyes at Puck.

"Fine by me," he said, shrugging. He picked up his beer and drained it. "Less babysitting for me to deal with."

"Whatever," Santana said with a dismissive sniff, throwing up a hand. "Ass."

"Bitch," he snapped back.

"Stop it," Brittany hissed. "Just stop it. You both love her so act like it."

They both retreated into their seats looking unrepentant.

"She's so sad," Brittany said quietly, stroking Quinn's hair. "That's the only thing that matters now."

"Oh yeah, well let's see how you feel when she barfs in your lap," Puck muttered behind his hand.

Brittany looked down at Quinn suspiciously.

**=^..^=**

Kurt sat rolling his eyes and handing Rachel tissues at regular intervals. She had been crying more or less non-stop from the moment he walked in the door. So far all he'd managed to put together was that it had something to do with Quinn finding Mr. Arnstein, who was presently spending the day at the groomer because he smelled like baby diapers and was infested.

"So let me see if I understand this," he said over Rachel's whimpering. "Quinn found your lost cat and instead of being happy about it, you're now this unappealing quivering pile of goo."

"It's not funny," Rachel insisted tearfully. "You don't understand."

"No," he said truthfully. "I don't understand. Wasn't that the whole point of this – to get your cat back?"

"Well, yes," she said, wiping her hand across her eyes.

He grimaced.

"Pink eye is not your color," he said, pulling up a fresh dollop of tissues and shoving them at her.

"So you didn't want her to find him?" he asked again, baffled.

"No, oh my God. Of course I'm glad she found him. I thought he was dead," she said, sniffling into her tissues. "But now that she has she won't see me anymore."

That admission started new tears streaming.

"Okay, still confused," he said slowly. "I thought you two were friends, sort of."

"That's what I thought, too," she said, her eyes wandering everywhere.

Kurt eyed her suspiciously.

"If memory serves," he said, holding a finger to his cheek. "I thought you were maybe...more than friends."

He narrowed his eyes at her. Rachel's brow wrinkled and she sucked her lip under her teeth.

"Rachel Barbra, you naughty, naughty minx, what did you do?" he said, his tone a mixture of pride and scolding.

First she shook her head, frowning, a defiant look on her face.

"Nothing. That's not... don't be...," she sputtered indignantly.

"What? Don't be what?" he asked dramatically. "Oh, I know, don't be right."

He smirked, giving her a haughty eye roll.

"We were just friends," Rachel said ridiculously. "That's all."

"Of course," he said, nodding. " Because I get this same exact same way when the checkout clerk at Whole Foods won't return my calls after she's finished ringing up my order. It's so devastating. "

Rachel's face crumpled and she pitched forward onto the sofa racked in sobs. Her hand came up and Kurt placed a tissue in her open palm.

He sighed, exasperated.

"Too bad we can't just misplace that cat again," he said, scoffing. "That would certainly solve this problem."

Rachel sat up so quickly that Kurt flinched back. He instantly recognized the manic gleam in her eyes and realized his mistake.

"Rachel, it was a joke," he said quickly, hoping to minimize the damage. "You can't be seriously..."

"Maybe you could just..." she started but he cut her off immediately.

"Rachel, please," he said, trying to move her away from any such outlandish notions.

"But if we said that he got away at the groomer," she suggested in a flurry.

She got up and started pacing quickly around the room. The more her mind worked the more her hands flailed in the air. Kurt watched her looking slightly terrified.

"Of course, he really would be safely stashed away somewhere. But, it could happen, right? I mean, yes, it would be a lie, but, but... "

"Goodness knows I love a good madcap, screwball farce as much as the next gay," he said. "But Rachel, honey, seriously, please listen to yourself."

"I don't think it's all that far-fetched," she insisted adamantly. "I mean, when you think about it."

" No, of course not," he said sarcastically. "Next thing you know you'll be chasing around with 7 plaid cat carriers and riding an ice cream cart into a Chinese dragon."

She sniffed and folded her arms across her chest.

"Kurt, while I certain appreciate the Streisand analogy, I hardly think it's appropriate here," she huffed. "It's not all that outlandish. Pets escape from the groomer all the time."

"Yes, it is a virtual pandemic," he snapped back. "Rachel..."

"I think this could work, " she pressed. "Of course, I would need to get some money together and we'd need a team."

"No, no, absolutely, emphatically no," he said firmly, trying to be the voice of reason since Rachel clearly didn't have one of her own. "A team, really? Listen to yourself, please."

"What if I said he was catnapped?" she said brightly, a finger going to her cheek. She smiled, clearly pleased with the sheer brilliance of herself. "That happens. I know it does. I read the papers."

"Rachel, for Barbra's sake," Kurt said sounding more than a little desperate. "You sound positively deluded. And frankly, even if you did somehow, miraculously, manage to pull this off, unless Quinn is a complete and utter idiot she's not going to believe you. She's going to know you're lying."

"But I'm an actress," she said, as though he could have possibly forgotten. "I can do this. Piece of cake."

"Even more to the point," he insisted. "She won't believe you. Rachel."

She waved a dismissive hand in his direction.

"Streep, Out of the Dark. No, no, too detached, too restrained," she said, coaching herself. "Something more vulnerable, more longing."

"Hatter, Alice in Wonderland, as in Mad as," Kurt interjected. "McGregor, Big Fish, as in big, fat, liar."

"Come on," she whined loudly, falling onto the couch. "Help me."

"Oh Rachel," he said with a patient sigh. "I'm trying."

"It doesn't feel like it," she fussed, falling forward and laying like a rag doll.

"Do you really want to lie to this girl?" he said softly, leaning toward her.

"No," she reluctantly admitted.

"I didn't think so," he said, much relieved.

"Why won't she just talk to me?" she whimpered, tears falling again.

"Maybe it's because she can't," he said, rubbing Rachel's back.

"Why not?" she asked pitifully. She sat up and looked at him. He blotted tears from her face gently.  
>"I just want to make sense of this."<p>

"It sounds to me like it hurts her too much," he said quietly.

She blinked slowly, thinking about what he said.

**=^..^=**

Santana was trying to get money out of her purse to leave for a tip, but Quinn kept pulling out random items and tossing them on the table.

"Quinn, doll, stop. Don't...HERE," Santana finally said angrily, pushing Quinn toward Puck. "Just, just hold her up."

Puck looped his arm around Quinn's waist. She stared back up at him and then started poking her finger into his cheek.

"Look," he said, tipping his head away, trying to get out of her reach. "Just let me take her home.

"Just stand there and try to be helpful for two minutes," Santana snapped. "I'll do this and then we'll get out of here."

He opened his mouth to argue but Quinn poked him squarely in the eye.

"Oooh, eye got you," she snickered.

"Son of a..." Puck squealed, wincing and pushing her hand away. Quinn fell hard against him laughed wildly. "Quinn, just...ah hell."

He was more or less supporting her weight entirely. Chuckling, Quinn started singing and swinging on him.

"Are we ready yet?" he asked, clearly exasperated with them all.

"Yeah, yeah," Santana admitted, equally irritable."Can you manage her?"

"Hell yes," he said. He bent and easily tipped Quinn up over his shoulder.

"Oooh, ride," she said excitedly. She started slapping him on the ass. "Go faster, faster."

Santana just closed her eyes and swore under her breath.

"Come on, Brit," she said, taking Brittany's hand and pulling her along through the crowd. Heads turned and watch as Puck march along behind them with Quinn tossed over his shoulder. His scowl guaranteed no one made any smart remarks.

Once in the parking lot, Santana had her keys hand, already pointing him in the direction of her car.

"Look, I'm just gonna go," he said. "Just let me handle this."

Santana narrowed her eyes and pointed a key at him like she meant business.

"Listen Suckerman," she hissed. I'm not having this conversation with you again. Put her in our car and go the hell away. I'll deal with this."

He shook his head adamantly.

"You don't really want to fuck with me, Elephant Boy, " she warned. "Step off."

"I'll follow you," Puck suggested.

Santana scoffed loudly.

"Not happening," she said, stepping toward him. "Put her down or I'll make you put her down."

"Then follow me," he countered. "I know where you live."

"Why are you in this?" she asked.

"Look, I just want to make sure you all get home without any problems," he said. "She's a handful like this."

Santana stared hard at him.

"I'm warning you," she told him, stabbing him in the chest with the key. "If you drive off..."

"Just pull out and wait for me," he told her over his shoulder, already walking to his truck.

He unlocked the cab and dumped Quinn in the passenger seat. She lolled like a rag doll. He pulled the seat belt across her lap and closed the door carefully. He was still debating whether to take off or not as he climbed behind the wheel. He turned the key and looked up, startled to find to find Brittany standing by his window. He rolled it down.

"San says I should ride with you," she told him.

"Ah, come on, B," he growled. "There's no room. Tell Santana this is dumb as shit and I'll drive slow."

She shrugged and walked back to their car and leaned in the driver's window, obviously talking with Santana. Finally she walked around and got in their car. Santana leaned on the horn, apparently to hurry him along. He backed out and pulled past them and Santana fell in behind him, following closely.

His plan was to try and talk some sense into Quinn, but he could tell by the way she was slumped over against the door that she was clearly not in any condition to talk to anyone about anything.

Although he would never admit it to anyone he felt largely responsible for this whole mess. If he'd been available to take Rachel's call that morning instead of catting around the coffee shop it's possible that none of this would even be happening. He felt like he owned it to Quinn to at least help try and put things right for her again.

He'd already tried to have a conversation with Rachel, but apparently that didn't do much good. If anything, it might have pushed them closer together.

**=^..^=**

"Excuse me," Kurt said, asking Rachel to repeat what she just told him.

"She asked me to choose her," she said quietly, staring down at her hands resting motionless in her lap.

" I mean, she actually said, 'Be with me.'"

"Oh my," Kurt said, surprised.

"I wanted to...well, you know," she said and quickly glanced up at him.

He shook his head tightly.

She raised her eye brows and jerk one shoulder up.

"You know..." she said again. When he continued to look baffled she leaned in slightly and dropped her voice. "Have sex."

Kurt gaped slightly.

"But she wouldn't," she continued. "I even...tried and she stopped me."

"Oh, just...um, wow." he said weakly.

He slumped back against the couch, the effort of wrangling Rachel's tilt-a-whirl emotions and processing this new admission finally taking its toll on him. Rachel had crushes. It wasn't anything new. She got them easily, exhausted them quickly, suffered their demise dramatically then moved on to the next. He was used to that, but this, however, this was clearly something different.

"Are you ready to talk about this?" he asked seriously. "I mean really tell me what's going on?"

She nodded.

"So you haven't slept with this girl?" he asked directly.

She shook her head.

"But if I understand correctly, " he continued, reluctantly. "It's not for your lack of...trying?"

She sighed deeply and finally nodded her head.

"Rachel, as much as it pains me to ask this, and believe me, it does, " he said, eyes rolling. "Have you ever even been with another woman?"

"I, I mean, there were a few times..." she stammered and then finally she just shook her head. "Not really."

"And yet that didn't stop you from...oh how I hate this," he said dramatically, hand to heart. "That didn't stop you from...really, Rachel? I mean, seriously. Love you dearly, but you are given to flights of well, exaggeration."

Rachel rolled her eyes.

"You really tried to have sex with this girl?" he said, still not quite believing it.

"Yes, Kurt," she huffed. "I really tried. I practically threw myself at her. Wait, strike that, there was no practically about it. I stopped somewhere just short of tearing all my clothes of and jumping on her face..."

"Oh my god," he muttered, groaning loudly as if in agony.

Friendship had it's limits and Rachel was pushing the envelope. No doubt that visual would haunt his dreaming and waking hours for days.

"I just..," he said, fanning himself.

"But it was quite clear what my intent was," she said emphatically. "She knew very well that I want to..."

"STOP!" he said shrilly causing Rachel's mouth to snap shut. "Stop. I've got the picture, unfortunately."

She exhaled sharply and quirked her mouth.

"Okay," he said, still trying to push the images far, far away. "And given your, shall we say, persistence, she still declined?"

"At least you have the decency to make it sound implausible," she said with a sad smile. "But yes, she declined, she insisted she wanted something more that just...sex."

"My goodness," he whispered.

"I know, right," she said.

He frowned at her. He wasn't sure if she really comprehended the gravity of that gesture. It was possible Rachel had never encountered it before in her rather limited romantic experiences. He was quite sure anyone she'd been with was a willing participant regardless of their true intentions.

"And you?" he asked. "What did you want?"

"Well, at that moment, I will readily admit I wasn't thinking very clearly. I just wanted..." she confessed. "She was so close and so beautiful. Just the thought of touching..."

"Yes, yes, yes, I see, very close, beautiful, thoughts, lots and lots of thoughts," he said, again fanning away the thoughts. "Enough with what happened then, now, what about now? What do you want from her now, Rachel?"

"Now I just want to see her, to talk to her," she admitted. "I just... miss being with her. I mean, the if sex was a part of it, that would be...well, that would so amazing, too. Oh my god."

She and Kurt both whimpered, but for different reasons.

"Oh Kurt," she said, shoulders slumping.

Rachel looked so devastated that Kurt signed resignedly. He moved over next to her and pulled her into a hug.

"Maybe she was just being kind," she said, sniffling against his chest. "And now's she's avoiding me so she doesn't have to tell me the truth."

"I can tell you don't believe that at all even while you're saying it, " he told her, shaking his head. "You know this girl has real feelings for you. Just like you have real feelings for her, don't you?"

She nodded.

"Then I think that it's about time you suck it up and deal with the proverbial elephant sucking up all the air in the room," he said flatly.

Rachel didn't respond. He pushed her away from him and stared her straight in the eye.

"Rachel, darling, if you want to be with this girl then the answer is very clear. You need to lose something," he said wryly. "But it isn't a cat."

He wasn't surprised when there was no response.

**=^..^=**

"Just put her down there," Santana said, pointing at the couch. "We'll deal with it from here."

Truth was she wasn't sure how she and Brit would manhandle Quinn into the guest room, but she just wanted Puck out of the house. She's had her fill of his smug looks and snide comments for one day.

"I can take her up..." he said, but one look at Santana's face cut him off and he placed Quinn down on the sofa. She immediately curled over on her side. He put a hand gently on her head, then stepped back.

"All good," Santana declared. "Thanks for the assist."

She promptly squeezed a vice grip on his earlobe and began dragging him, arms pinwheeling, toward the door.

"Sorry you can't stay longer," she said, propelling him him through the still-open doorway. She followed him out the door with a well-placed kick in the ass.

"And that's for calling me slow-driving, dumb-shit, " she hissed and slammed the door behind him.

"Thanks a lot, Brittany," he muttered, rolling his eyes. He gingerly starting limping back to his truck.

**=^..^=**

Between the two of them, they managed to half-carry, half-drag Quinn into their guest room. They draped her more-or-less over the side of the bed and then left her to fend for herself while they changed out of their work clothes. By the time Santana came back to check on her, Quinn was awake and scrambling madly past her heading for the guest bathroom in the hall. The door slammed and Santana winced at the noises that followed.

"Where's Quinn?" Brittany asked, holding a glass of water and a bowl of chicken noodle soup. "I fixed this for her."

"Oh honey, " Santana said, taking the soup. "Let''s just leave this for her, okay? She's not right up to eating at the moment."

Santana put the sou p on the dress in near Quinn's bed.

"Maybe she needs some help?" Brittany suggested.

Santana held up her hands and backed a couple of steps.

"I love Q like mad, but sh'e totes on her own in there," Santana admitted. "I had enough of her in college. Come on, B, she'll moo if she needs help."

Not satisfied, Brittany walked up and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Quinn?" she called, leaning her head against the door.

"Not now, B 'kay?" Quinn called, her voice strained.

"I made you some soup," she told her. "I put goldfish crackers in it. They always make me feel better."

Santana winced. Quinn groaned loudly and Santana tugged Brittany away from the door.

"We're gonna give you some space, Q," Santana told her loudly, propelling Brittany towards their bedroom. "Come get me if you need me, sweetie."

All she heard was pained grunt that may or may not have been an acknowledgment, followed immediately by groaning and retching.

"Oh boy," Santana muttered sympathetically.

"You're right. I think she might not want her soup right now," Brittany agreed.

"It was sweet of you," Santana told her, squeezing her hand. "The goldfish were a nice touch."

She pulled Brittany into her and kissed her forehead.

"Maybe we should call Rachel," Brittany suggested.

Santana did a double-take at the suggestion.

"Honey, I'm pretty sure that at this moment seeing Rachel is the last thing on Quinn's mind," Santana told her gently.

Brittany wasn't so convinced.

"I always want you to take care of me when I'm sick," Brittany pointed out reasonably.

"I know, I know," Santana agreed. "But Quinn, well, she's funny about these things. Let's just hold off on the Rachel thing okay, B?"

Brittany hesitated for a long moment, then reluctantly nodded in agreement.

"Can we get a kitten?" Brittany asked randomly. "I made a list of things we could name it. Want to hear."

"Always," Santana said, smiling.

She teered her into the bedroom as she reeled of a list of names for their future pet.

**=^..^=**

"I can't," Rachel said, shaking her head rapidly. "I just can't."

Kurt scoffed loudly.

"Rachel, you were just hatching a plot to kidnap your own cat," he said incredulously. "That makes more sense to you than breaking up with..."

"Stop!" she said loudly, grabbing his arm. "Don't, just don't... I'm not ready to hear it out loud yet."

"I can't believe I'm actually just saying this to you in **this** conversation," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "But **NOW** you're just being ridiculous."

She huffed and turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself, trying to make herself physically as small as she felt.

"He's a terrible boyfriend," he continued. "He's selfish, slow and frankly, I don't know why you're with him at in the first place."

"You've never liked him," she snapped.

"No, Rachel, I've never liked him," he agreed. "But that's beside the point. Whether I like him or not doesn't matter. "

"He hasn't done anything wrong," she argued.

"This isn't about right or wrong either," he pointed out quickly. "You don't have to stay with him just because he hasn't screwed things up this time. Give him time, I'm sure he'll get around to it again eventually."

She didn't say anything and stared at her palm as though trying to find the answers there.

"I don't know what to do," she said helplessly.

"Rachel," he said, exasperated. He got up and paced.

It finally dawned on him that Rachel's had most likely never ended a relationship in her life either. Sure she'd had relationships end, but it was never her idea first. He sat back down beside her and took her hand.

"Listen to me. You can't be afraid to let yourself find out if this can make you happier than you are right now," Kurt told her gently. "She's as much as said you can't have both and that's what you're trying to do."

"I'm afraid of what Finn might do, " she said.

"Surely he wouldn't dare put his hands on you," Kurt said, clearly surprised.

"No, of course not," Rachel said. "I don't mean that. I mean, well his family. I mean, he could ruin me if he wanted to. One word from his father and I'll never...everything I've worked for would be..."

She just shook her head.

"Would he really do something like that?" he asked.

"I don't know," she confessed. "I really, I just..."

Again, she just shook her head and gave him a weak shrug.

"I thought his father didn't, well, didn't like the idea of you two being together," he remarked.

Rachel sighed.

"I think he'd like it a lot less if word gets around I left his son for...well, for Quinn, " she told him.

_Left his son for Quinn._

They both realized that she'd finally actually said it out loud.

"Is that what you want?" Kurt coaxed gently.

The panic-stricken look on her face was answer enough.

"Oh my God, this is all so fast, " she whimpered. "I don't know where to go with all this... stuff. I feel like I'm just drowning in all these feelings."

"Maybe you could talk to her about it? " Kurt suggested. "Just explain what your concerns are."

"She won't listen," Rachel said.

"You don't know that," he told her. "I mean have you really even tried. Rachel?"

"Sort of," she confessed. "I mean, it's hard. Whenever we're together it's like I can't... think. I just think about..."

Kurt facepalmed and groaned and Rachel looked defeated.

"Listen to me," he said sternly. "You have to get your hormones under control. If all she sees of you is this sex fiend no wonder she's...confused. Now she probably thinks you're picking him over her. She feels rejected."

"But I... am," she admitted.

"For the moment, perhaps," he insisted. "But you wouldn't be carrying on like this if you were happy with that decision. Anyone with eyes and half a brain can see that you're not. Speaking of half a brain, where is he? Why isn't he lumbering around in the background and whining like a toddler?"

Rachel sighed.

"He's in Florida," she told him. "He got a part in one of his father's films."

"But I thought his dad didn't approve of that sort-of thing?" he asked, confused.

"He thought he'd be smart and auditioned for the director directly," she explained. "His father's only producing. I guess the director insisted he's perfect for the part and Finn's father didn't...care enough to object."

Kurt huffed suspiciously.

Personally he had a very hard time believing any director would be so insistent about the likes of Finn being in his film that he'd risk standing up to his old man. Unless, of course, it was really just out-and-out pandering, a ploy to curry favor. Or a set-up.

Or perhaps something else was up.

Kurt pursed his lips as he wondered if Finn might not be lying for some reason. It wouldn't be the first time that he'd stretching the truth for his own benefits. He quietly vowed to see if he could find out more about Finn's latest activities. In the meantime, it was clearly time for some tough love.

"Rachel Berry," he said, taking her by the slumped shoulders and looking her in the sad, watery eyes. "Where's the girl who never takes 'no' for an answer? I know she's still in there somewhere?"

She gave him a weak smile.

"Better yet, look at it this way," he said confidently. "What would Barbra do?"

Behind the tears, he distinctly noted that manic twinkle rekindling.

"Unleash your inner Streisand," he insisted. "Quinn Fabray won't even know what hit her. Don't you dare let anything or anyone rain on your parade."

Rachel dissolved into grateful giggles and hugged him.

**=^..^=**

Quinn grunted. The buzzing sound. Just make it stop. Opening her eyes, she forced herself up off the floor and wrenched her cell phone out of her pocket. She stared at the phone and squinted hard. The numbers were a smeary blur and she finally gave up and just answered it because she couldn't get it turned off.

"What?" she snapped.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said immediately and cursed herself.

This was a bad idea. It was so early, too early to be calling anyone.

"Oh, it's you," Quinn scoffed. "Still apologizing no less. I don't have anything to say to you, Missy."

Both of them were taken by surprise at how angry she sounded.

"Please don't hang up on me," Rachel said quickly, fully expecting to hear the faint click, but it never came.

Quinn just grunted instead.

"Where are you?" Rachel asked. It was a neutral question and she hoped it would keep the conversation going.

"I'm not sure," Quinn said cautiously. She rolled her head loosely around, trying to find something familiar. She thought she was probably at Santana's but she wasn't quite sure. Besides, she wasn't about to tell Rachel and risk her turning up.

"What does that mean?" Rachel asked anxiously. "Why don't you know?"

"Rachel, what do you want?" Quinn asked. She didn't exactly mean to be rude, she just didn't want to talk more than necessary and well, it was Rachel after all. She would chatterbox unless forced to focus.

Quinn sound...funny. It was more than just drowsy, it was as if she was... now Rachel realized why she'd answered and was so surly. She'd seen this side of Quinn before.

"I just need to talk to you," Rachel explained. "I haven't stopped thinking about you."

Quinn smiled in spite of her situation.

"So I'm unregretable, huh? " she said, chuckling smugly.

Rachel laughed wryly.

"Yes, you are," she told her. "Very."

"Hmm," Quinn murmured, smirking.

"I need to see you," Rachel continued boldly, risking Quinn ending the call. "Just to talk."

"See there's the problem, kitten," Quinn said, shielding her eyes from the light with her hand. "We never can manage the whole 'just talk' thing."

"I promise I'll keep my hands to myself," Rachel said.

"Your lips, too?" Quinn asked, her tone softer, lighter, almost amused.

"Yes," Rachel laughed. "Those as well."

"And could you maybe not look so..." Quinn faded.

"So?" Rachel prodded, curiosity peaked.

Quinn exhaled heavily, breath echoing into the phone. Rachel swore she could feel it tickling her ear.

"So...so...," Quinn said, again trailing away.

"Adorable?" Rachel suggested helpfully.

"Mmm, that, but..." Quinn remarked.

"Kissable?" Rachel asked, grinning.

"That too," Quinn admitted. "And lick-able, don't forget... that."

Rachel felt the heat rise to her face, among other places.

"Um, what else?" she asked, heartbeat quickening.

Quinn pulled her knees up and rested her forehead against them. She closed her eyes and remember cuddling with Rachel in her bed on another morning similar to this.

"So soft," she said in a quiet breathy whisper. "And touchable."

"Quinn, tell me where you are," Rachel urged. "Just let me come get you."

"I can't be around you right now," Quinn said.

"Why not?" Rachel asked, knowing full well the answer.

"You know why," Quinn said. "All those reasons."

"Those are all the reasons you should let me come get you," Rachel told her.

Quinn laughed.

"I need you to kiss me," Rachel confessed, her voice a throaty growl. "I need to feel your lips on me, somewhere, anywhere."

Quinn swallowed hard, her stomach falling dangerously.

"Rachel," she said softly. "Please..."

"I need to see you," Rachel whispered. "Tell me where you are. Let me take care of you."

"Alright," Quinn said, relenting.

Santana knock lightly on the door.

"Hey doll," she said loudly.

Quinn jumped like a teenager caught kissing in the glow of the porch light. She dropped the phone and it skittered loudly across the tile.

_Cursed. God-damned star-crossed!_

"Fuck," she hissed under breath, scrambling after the phone. She scooped it up, taking several fumbling tries to get the right end to her ear.

"I can't talk right now," Quinn stammered.

" Quinn," Rachel said. "Just tell me where you are. Don't..."

"I'm not alone." Quinn hissed painfully, head throbbing wildly and her stomach rolling again. "Chickadee, I really gotta go. I'm sorry. Sorry. "

\" Quinn, wait, wait!" Rachel said urgently. "Quinn..."

The signal was gone.

Now in addition to just missing Quinn, she was yet again a quivering, frustrated mess. Not to mention she now couldn't get the thought of Quinn being with someone else out her mind.

It was definitely a woman's voice she heard. That coupled with the facts that Quinn had clearly been drinking, didn't know where she was and had said she wasn't alone.

Rachel squealed unhappily and tossed her phone away. It bounced on the mattress and landed on the floor.

Rachel curled up into her pillow, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

Awaken by the commotion, Mr. Arnstein batted the phone around and then nosed it under the bed, pushing it exactly in the middle where it would be impossible to reach. Then he proceeded to march his way up the comforter and plopped himself down on the pillow next to Rachel's head and began to purr, loudly. His paws flexed rhythmically against her shoulder as she bunched her fists up into her eyes trying to stop the flow of tears and failing.

**=^..^=**

Quinn's stomach turned over but she was so dehydrated nothing was left and she just choked miserably. When the dizziness faded, she hauled herself up off the floor and rinsed her mouth, then splashed cold water on her face. She rummaged around in the drawers but she didn't find a spare toothbrush. As a last resort she squeezed toothpaste onto her finger and rubbed it over her teeth, trying to get the vile taste of a night out with Santana out of her mouth.

_Swish, spit, swish, spit. Oh god, please don't puke. _

She found herself narrating everything in her head which made her feel worse. She leaned heavily against the sink gripping with both hand to steady herself.

"Quinn," Santana tried again, knocking loudly.

Quinn reached behind her and opened the door.

Santana pushed it up and leaned on the frame, arms folded and staring at her.

"I've see you worse," she mused, pursing her lips. "Frankly, I'm surprised you're standing."

"You and me both," Quinn muttered, wincing painfully. "Has your house always been so... bright?"

Santana chuckled.

"Want coffee?" she asked.

Quinn moaned and Santana quirked an eyebrow.

"I don't think so," she managed to mutter.

"Well, you gotta have something," Santana told her, rubbing a sympathetic hand on her back. "It'll make you feel better. Let's try some tea, okay.|"

Quinn nodded slightly.

"Find a bed and get in," she told her. "I'll find you."

She patted her back and went back down the hall.

Quinn pushed open the first door she came to and squinted in. Brittany was curled up, sleeping. Or so she thought. When she moved to close the door, Brittany sat up.

"Quinn," she said sleepily, holding out her hand.

Quinn smiled and stepped into the room.

"Hey pretty blonde girl," she said. She grabbed Brittany's fingers and Brittany tugged gently, pulling her down on the mattress.

"You look bad," she told her.

"Thanks," Quinn said with a tight smile. "You look sleepy."

"Not so much," she told her. "I'm gonna go get San to make pancakes."

"Oh geez," Quinn moaned, rolling into a pillow that smelled faintly of Santana's perfume. "Please don't talk about...that."

Brittany laughed and rubbed her arm, then she pulled the sheet up over her. "Sleep some more."

|Quinn grunted, trying to find a cool spot on the pillow.

She heard Brittany and Santana talking quietly in the hallway, but couldn't make out any of their conversation except her name. It was mentioned a couple of times. She thought she might have heard Rachel's name as well. Santana walked into the room carrying a mug of hot, sweet tea, a bottle of water and cookies. She eased down on the mattress, nudging Quinn over.

"Sit up, doll," she told her.

"Mmm mmm," Quinn fussed.

"Yeah, don't make me get Brit involved," she warned.

Quinn pushed herself up with a groan. Santana held up a cookie and Quinn's nose turned up.

"Gingersnap," she told her. "Ginger is a powerful thing. Eat."

Quinn took it reluctantly and nibbled.

"Really?" Santana said, shaking her head. "I'll be here forever at that rate. Take a fucking bite."

"Yes, Nurse Wretched," Quinn said, chewing.

"Try not to spill this all over yourself," she told her, handing her the cup of tea. Quinn juggled the cookie and slurped loudly.

"Charming, "Santana smirked.

Quinn laughed.

"I'm sorry I got you like this," Santana said, staring into her lap.

"Yeah, I hate it when yo u hold me down and force things on me," Quinn said.

Santana shrugged.

"Still, Q," she said. "I feel bad."

"Don't," Quinn said, mouthful and spraying crumbs.

"NoDuh was hella pissed, too," she confessed.

Another chuckle from Quinn. She took another bite of her cookie.

"Everybody feels guilty about lil ole me," she said, chuckling.

"Yeah, well," Santana shrugged. "You're such a pitiful mess, how could we not?"

Quinn scoffed, smiling.

"Love you more," she told her, bumping her shoulder.

Santana rolled her eyes and leaned over and kissed Quinn's head.

"Ugh, take a shower," she told her, standing up. "And finish those cookies before you take these."

She grabbed Quinn's hand and tipped several pills into her palm.

"Roofies?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, you wish," Santana smirked. "As soon as Britt gets out of the shower we're taking off. It's pancake day."

"So I've heard," Quinn remarked, shuddering.

" You know how to find us if you need anything," Santana said. "Right?"

Quinn nodded, chewing slowly.

"No wild sex parties and stay out of my stash," she told her walked toward the door. She turned the light off and pulled the door closed behind her.

Quinn finished one cookie and another, then drained her tea. She tipped the pills into her mouth and chased them with several gulps of water, then put the bottle onto the nightstand. She curled back over on her side and pulled the blanket up to her chin, shivering.

She stayed that way for several minutes, staring blankly. She fished in her pocket and pulled out her cellphone and pushed redial on the last call.

The phone rang several times and then went to voice mail. Quinn hung up and tried again to sleep.

**=^..^=**

Rachel was still quietly sobbing into her hands when she heard her phone ring. It was muffled and faint, but the chorus of "Defying Gravity" was unmistakeably warbling away. Somewhere.

"Quinn," she said out loud and started furiously scrambling around for the phone. Nicky hissed his displeasure at being disturbed and sulked away to the other side of the bed where he watched placidly as Rachel flailed about like a mad woman. She rifled through the covers and, once satisfied it wasn't on the bed, began running in manic, hand-wringing circles looking for it on the floor.

Finally, in the throws of a full-fledged meltdown, she dropped to all fours and crawled around the bed, hands scrabbling frantically underneath. When that also proved futile, she belly-flopped onto her stomach and peered into the dark chasm beneath the bed.

Inexplicably, smack-dead in the center, she could see the faint green glow of her cell phone.

"What the fuck?" she hissed.

Nicky sauntered to the edge of the bed and peered over just as Rachel began swimming and squirming her way underneath the bed. He lackadaisically began licking a paw and scrubbing his face with it watching her legs kick and flail.

Grunting loudly with effort and trying to shake the perspiration out of her eyes, Rachel strained to get her fingertips on her phone.

_Just a few more inches. Why weren't her fingers longer? _

She inch-wormed a few more painful inches and finally felt her fingers touch the vibrating phone, She inched it back until she could close her hand around. She pulled it to her face as quickly as she was able in the tight confines and answered.

"Hello...hello?" she said, borderline in hysterics. "Quinn, hello? Hello? Quinn?"

The line was dead.

Nicky had moved on to cleaning his ear with a new paw when he heard the tiny muffled scream from deep underneath the mattress. It probably would have sent lesser cats fleeing for cover, but Nicky was well used to it. The same was true for the frantic wailing that followed. He did, however, know enough to disappear by the time Rachel emerged from beneath the confines of the the bed – a disheveled, dusty, hysterical, needy hot mess.

"SHIT," she yelled. Then, fists and teeth clenched, she pitched herself face-down on the mattress, a graceful flail of a swan-dive that would have been the envy of toddlers and drama queens everywhere.

She was still in the midst of cursing and crying when the phone in her clenched fist rang again.

"Ooohhh, ohmygod," she cried out and spring bolt upright in the bed. She began pawing at herself, whimpering and trying to wipe her tear-streaked, dust-smudged face, smooth her wild hair and swipe the grime from her shirt as though she were going on camera instead of merely taking a call. After two rings she became convinced Quinn would hang up again and willed herself to be calm enough to answer.

**=^..^=**

"Hello," answered a quivering voice, sniffling.

"Please stop crying," Quinn said immediately.

"S..ss...so..." Rachel began stuttering, but Quinn cut her off.

"And don't say you're sorry," she told her. "Stop apologizing to me all the time."

"S...um, okay, "Rachel said and Quinn smiled. "You called me."

Rachel sounded out-of-breath and manic. Quinn couldn't even begin to imagine what she was doing or why she hadn't answered earlier. She knew she had to call back because she was genuinely afraid Rachel might have a breakdown when she realized she missed a call.

"I did," Quinn admitted. "I couldn't close my eyes thinking you were probably crying yours out."

"No, I wasn't," she lied.

"Okay then," Quinn said quickly. "Bye."

"Wait, alright," Rachel said in a rush. God, stop being such an idiot. "Maybe I was...a little bit."

Quinn chuckled.

"That was, you were teasing," Rachel said, nodding. "Right?"

"I suppose I was," Quinn said. "A little bit."

"So are you going to tell me where you are now?" Rachel asked.

"No," Quinn answered.

"Why not?" Rachel whined.

"It would only depress you," Quinn answered.

"Whhhyyy," Rachel asked hesitantly, fearing the worst.

"Well I am in some pretty girl's bed," Quinn teased.

"Oh," Rachel said her tone considerably cooled. "Gee, how nice for you."

Quinn grinned wickedly, pleased with herself.

"You have such pretty green eyes," she said.

Rachel scoffed.

"Don't you even...my eyes are br..." Rachel stammered and then stopped mid-syllable. "Oh. Funny, ha ha. Don't flatter yourself. "

"Right," Quinn said smugly.

"Seriously, what do I care if you go out and get drunk and pick up, " Rachel huffed. "Whatever it is you pick up."

"Oh really," Quinn snapped. "They'll be comforted to know that you approve."

"They?" Rachel squeaked. "Quinn, really. I'm..."

Quinn laughed.

"Don't be such a prude, chickadee," she said, "You have to loosen up a bit."

Rachel sputtered and Quinn snickered.

"I don't see what's so funny," Rachel snapped finally. "I hardly find your sexual escapades are all that amusing."

"First of all, I don't have sexual escapades," Quinn told her. "And even if I did, it certainly your place to approve or disapprove of them."

"Clearly not," she replied shortly. "Whatever. As you've so abundantly made clear, it's not my concern..."

"Santana," Quinn said, feeling drowsy.

"What?" Rachel said, confused.

"I'm at Santana's," Quinn admitted.

"You slept with Santana?" she hissed. "What about Brittany?"

"Oh my god," Quinn groaned and folded the pillow around her head.

She heard Rachel laughing

"Two can play that game you realize," she said smugly.

"I deserved that," Quinn admitted.

"You did," Rachel concurred.

They both just smiled, listening to the other breath.

"I'm sorry you're not feeling well," Rachel said.

"Don't be," Quinn answered. "I did it to myself. It was stupid. I know better than this."

"So why do you keep doing it?" Rachel asked, seriously.

"You know why," Quinn said softly.

"Quinn," Rachel said, feeling guilty and helpless.

"I'm...sorry," Quinn said ruefully. "I can't blame.. I shouldn't blame you."

"Quinn, I wish..." Rachel said and groaned in frustration. "I wish things were..."

"I know," Quinn told her. "I know. I wish, too."

They both retreated to their own thoughts. Rachel emerged first.

"Quinn?" Rachel said timidly.

"Yes?" she answered.

"If I asked you to trust me..." Rachel said.

Quinn was laughing before she could finish.

"No, stop, seriously," Rachel scolded. "If it was important, would you?"

"Of course, chickadee, " Quinn answered.

She grunted and rolled over onto her back.

"Please trust me," Rachel whispered.

She could hear Quinn's steady, soft breathing. Several minutes passed and Rachel thought she'd fallen asleep.

"I do," she answered finally with absolute conviction. "I do, Rachel."

"Thank you," Rachel answered, smiling. "If you can be patient with me I promise th..."

"Don't," Quinn stopped her. "Don't, don't make me any promises. Just...just..."

"Alright," Rachel said, nodding. "So."

"So." Quinn repeated back to her.

"Can I come over now?" Rachel asked.

"No," Quinn said, laughing. "I don't trust you that much."

Rachel laughed softly.

"And I trust myself even less," she added.

"So when can I see you again?" Rachel pressed boldly.

Quinn was regretting not looking more closely at whatever medication Santana tumbled into her hand earlier. She was getting suspiciously drowsy and was not ready to end the conversation. If she could be with Rachel at least she could listen to her.

"Mmm, dunno know, chickadee, " she said, letting her eyes close.

"Quinn?" Rachel said and Quinn felt herself jerk awake.

"Mmm yes?" she answered.

It felt like she was swimming through fog.

"Did you mean that?" Rachel asked.

_Oh shit. _

"Mean what?" she asked nervously.

"That you wished I was there?" Rachel said.

_Oh thank god. She hoped that was all she had said. _

"Yes," she said, turning over. "Absolutely, so much, yes."

She was going to steal Santana's pillow she decided randomly. It was heavenly.

"I'm so confused," Rachel whimpered. "You want me there but you won't let me come over."

"Rach, don't listen to me," Quinn said, inhaling deeply, her mind fogging over. "I...um...hmmm, San may have lied about drugging me. I'm not really, um...responsible at the moment."

"I suspected as much," Rachel said, smiling.

"Gonna fall asleep soon," Quinn warned. "Can't help it."

"It's okay," Rachel assured her. "Do you want to hang up?"

"Oh no,no, no," Quinn said, chasing it with a breathy groan. "Like falling asleep with you, kitten."

Rachel buried her face in her pillow and squealed happily. The 'kitten' endearment was new and pleased her immensely. It felt somehow special.

"Quinn?" Rachel asked.

"Rachel?" Quinn answered.

"Do you really think I need to loosen up?" she asked.

"Goodness, no," Quinn said, once again reminding herself to watch what she said. Rachel took everything at face value.

"Uh uh, not even a little bit," she reassured her.

"Will you tell me...if I do?" she asked. "I know I can be kind of exhausting."

"You don't exhaust me, Rachel," Quinn told her. "Need to stop worry about everything."

"That's part of the exhausting thing." Rachel admitted.

"It's fine, chickadee," Quinn said. "You're just fine, promise you are."

"Or what if I'm...you know, boring," Rachel said, dropping her voice. "In bed."

"Shit, Rachel," Quinn sputtered, rolling into the pillow to smother her giggles. "You're not...you're so not."

"I mean, I know we've never, but..." Rachel pressed, trying to explain. "If we ever, and it's not..."

"Chickadee!" Quinn exclaimed. "Stop, you're...it's all good."

"But you'll tell me?" Rachel continued, having to have the last word. "Won't you? So we can fix..."

"Rach, yes, yeah, yeah," Quinn insisted. "I'll, it'll be...hah, oh my god...ah, yeah."

Quinn groaned and scrubbed her hand over her eyes, trying to rub some sense into her thoughts.

_Why, why, why hadn't she let Rachel come over? Why was she so stubborn?_

Rachel stayed quiet, just listening to Quinn's breathing getting slower and softer.

"Quinn," she whispered.

"Hmmm," Quinn said, again pulling herself awake and struggling to stay that way.

"Don't give up on me," Rachel asked quietly. "I know it's too much to ask but..."

"Won't," Quinn said, too drowsy to even form whole sentences anymore. "Too stubborn. Can't. Too crazy about..."

There was more, but Quinn couldn't say the words anymore.

"Thank you," Rachel whispered. She just squeezed the phone to her ear and listened to the quiet whisper of her breath.

When she knew she was asleep Rachel giggled and then gave a breathy, happy sob of mostly relief.

She turned up the volume on her phone and put it on speaker then placed it right next to her ear on her pillow. There was little doubt that Quinn wasn't going to wake up again soon, but Rachel was determined to stay "with" her as long as she kept the line open.

Rachel last 20 minutes until she, too, was asleep her hand curled over her phone like a lifeline. Their connection lasted until Quinn's phone charge finally failed them an hour later.

When she came home after her dance class, Brittany found Quinn in a drug-fueled sleep with her phone still held loosely up against her face. She pried it away gently and placed it on the nightstand.

There was no doubt in her mind who Quinn had been talking to and it made her very, very happy.

**=^..^=**


	13. Chapter 13: No Refunds Necessary

No Refunds Necessary

Quinn felt the bed dip next to her and smiled. She reached out and touched bare skin. Without opening her eyes, she shifted over and put her head in a soft, welcoming lap.

"I was hoping you might show up," she muttered happily, trailing her fingertips up the smooth calf, up the softer thigh, wrapping her hand around it and squeezing.

"What in the holy fuck are you doing?" Santana asked.

Quinn's breath froze in her chest and she jerked away like she'd touched a live wire.

"God damn it, Santana," she said angrily. She was horribly embarrassed and felt herself flush dark crimson.

"Q..Q..Q...uinn," Santana wheezed.

Santana was laughing so hard there was no sound coming out. She had tears leaking out of her eyes and one hand slapping against the mattress. It hurt so good.

"Just fuck you," Quinn snapped, shrinking up into herself angrily, rolling her eyes.

" A few more inches higher and you could..." Santana croaked out before she gasped and started laughing again.

Quinn clenched her teeth and finally snatched up the pillow and smacked her over the head with it. Santana flailed at it, yanked it away from Quinn and just fell over clutching it tightly.

Quinn retreated into a full-on death glare sulk that would have ignited the room on fire.

"I was hoping you might show up," Santana said in her best sultry Quinn mocking tone. "Oh my god, Q, your shit is so lame."

Quinn exhaled angrily and pulled the sheet up over her head.

Santana caught a glimpse of her out of the corner of her eye and howled. She was still rolling around on the bed in a breathless fit of giggles when Brittany walked in.

"Are you guys playing hide and seek?" she asked.

"Yes, and Quinn sucks at that, too, " Santana chortled. "Fucking Cousin It..."

She was off and rolling again.

Brittany shook her head at both of them.

"Did you eat your goldfish soup, Quinn?" Brittany asked eagerly.

Quinn tugged on the sheet, pulling it down partially so that one eye was uncovered.

_Goldfish soup? _

Her stomach had been pretty settled for hours, but that thought was giving rise to new pangs of protests. She stifled a queasy belch.

"Brit," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I, um, no, I don't remember that."

"It was soup with goldfish crackers," Santana corrected for Quinn's sake. "Not goldfish soup."

"No B, honey," Quinn confessed, relieved. "I didn't eat anything actually."

"Maybe I should have made squid soup instead," Brittany said with a sigh.

Quinn looked at Santana who looked confused and just shrugged.

"San brought take-out home for tonight," Brittany remarked.

"Let me guess," Quinn said, rolling her one eye to Santana. "Thai?"

Brittany nodded happily.

"Well before you bury your rude self," Santana cautioned. "I also got you a chicken cheesesteak monstrosity from that roach coach on the beach you chase around."

"You are officially forgiven," Quinn declared, stomach now seriously growling.

Santana scoffed.

"So clean up and come downstairs," she teased. "Act like you're not some sad, hopeless recluse pining away. "

"Hmmph," Quinn grunted pulling the sheet back up over her head.

"Cousin It," Brittany said, laughing and touching Quinn's foot. "You're it."

"Come on, Brit, sweetie," Santana said, tugging on her shirt. "Let's give Quinn some privacy to ponder her bleak existence."

Quinn chuckled wryly.

"So she can go hide." Brittany said, nodding.

"Nah," Santana said. "Ole Q's too ninja for that. She's been hiding in plain sight for years."

Brittany looked at her, head tilted in confusion.

"Come on, babe," Santana coaxed again, tugging her out of the room.

_Ouch._

=^..^=

Quinn ate a third of her sandwich without even pausing to take a breath, then gulped down most of a glass of cream soda, leaving just the foam.

"Keep your hands clear, Brit," Santana warned .

Quinn glared at her chewing with both cheeks puffed out.

"I'm hungry," she said with a shrug.

"Obviously," Santana said with a laugh. "Well, it's not a timed event. No one is going to take it away from you either so you can stop guarding it."

Quinn had a hand on her glass and one arm protectively wrapped around her plate. Realizing Santana was right, she laughed at herself and sat back.

"Too many years with Noah eating off my plate," she admitted and Santana rolled her eyes.

"Don't mention that name to me," she huffed.

Quinn looked to Brittany, who shrugged. Noah and Santana were always feuding about something. Quinn stopped trying to change that years ago. As long as there was no actual blood shed, she let them work it out between them.

"I wanna try your chicken cheesecake," Brittany said.

"It's not cheesecake, sweetie," Quinn told her, holding out her sandwich to her. "It's a cheesesteak sandwich."

Brittany nibbled at it cautiously.

"It doesn't take like cake," she told her, shaking her head.

"No,baby," she agreed. "It doesn't."

"Or cheesecake steak either," she added. "Maybe Noah can can make us one."

"Maybe so," Quinn said, smiling.

"Again with the yay Puck shit," Santana fussed. "Seriously, stop, both of you. I'm trying to eat here."

Quinn and Brittany grinned at each other.

"So, Rachel," Santana said.

Quinn held up a hand.

"Don't," she warned. "I'm done taking advice on that topic."

"Gee, I didn't realize that you had," Santana said, eating slowly.

"Just...don't," Quinn asked, picking up her sandwich and taking a bite.

"So Rachel," Santana continued, ignoring her.

"I'm trying to eat here," Quinn insisted, mumbling behind her hand around a mouthful of food.

"Well actually, " Santana said, scowling. "I wasn't going to give you any advice, I was going to ask you to work your weird mojo and get her to come meet with me again. Preferably without all the crying and hand-wringing this time."

"Oh," Quinn said, still holding a hand over her mouth. "Can't you just call her yourself?"

"I don't want to poach," she said. "If she comes to me then it's not really poaching."

"Mmm," Quinn said, nodding. "Sounds very...semantic."

She reached for Santana's beer and then thought better of it and grabbed Brttany's water instead, sipping.

Santana got up and walked to the refrigerator and got out a bottle of water and placed it in front of Quinn, then sat back down.

"Thank you. So are you sure you're ready to do this?" Quinn asked, unscrewing the cap.

"I'm sure I'm ready for you to stop asking me if I'm ready," Santana answered with a bored exhale.

"I mean, it's just, well, why Rachel?" Quinn asked.

Santana put her fork down.

"Because she's really very talent. But no one gets a chance to see that, " Santana explained patiently. "And that's because right now she's spinning her wheels with some mid-level team that is more interested in running her through the same old meat grinder. They're too short-sighted to think outside of the box and so they throw her at the same old things hoping something sticks. In the meanwhile, Rachel gets chewed up and more disillusioned and she'll eventually just stop. Why? Because it will be too hard, too painful and there will be too much missed opportunity and broken promise. On day she'll just give up and find some mundane, ordinary job to fill the years and disappear into the real world. Just another almost in a business filled with never was and could have been."

Quinn stopped chewing contemplating what Santana was saying.

"Quite frankly that thought depresses the shit out of me," Santana admitted picking up her fork again.

Everyone was quiet for a long moment.

"Oh that's good," Quinn said, nodding. "And you deliver it really, really well, too."

"Thank you," Santana said smugly, quite happy with herself.

"Do you practice in front of a mirror?" Quinn asked.

"No," Santana admitted. "Usually just in the car, to pass the drive."

"Effective," Quinn said admirably.

"Thanks," Santana said.

Brittany sniffled suddenly and both Santana and Quinn looked over at her. Santana reached over and squeezed her hand.

"I don't want Rachel to disappear," she said sincerely, then she turned and made puppy eyes at Quinn.

"You have to fix it," she told her.

"Yeah, Q," Santana said, eating slowly. "Fix it."

Quinn rolled her eyes and took another mouthful of sandwich.

"Nobody's gonna disappear, Brit," she said, shaking her head. "Nobody's gonna fade away into the boulevard of broken dreams."

"Promise?" she asked, looking back and forth between Santana and Quinn.

"I promise you, Brit," Quinn said, nodding.

"Yeah, B," Santana added. "It's all good. No worries."

Brittany exhaled, relieved and tiny clapped her hands under her chin, then picked up her fork again.

Quinn and Santana side-eyed each other back and forth over the table.

"I'll be waiting for that call," Santana said.

"Fine," Quinn snapped.

"Tick Tock doll," Santana added. "She's not getting any younger."

Quinn scoffed loudly.

"I'm just sayin," Santana added innocently.

"Well don't," Quinn warned. "Don't _just say _anything else."

"Okay doll-face," she said, biting off a piece of broccoli with a satisfied smirk.

=^..^=

Quinn peered into case, scanning dreamily over the heavenly selections while waiting for the girl behind the counter to box up her selections.

"Decisions, decisions," she heard a familiar voice beside her comment and she looked up to find Rachel grinning at her.

It had been almost four days since their last conversation. Quinn had been caught up in a flood of new work and Rachel had been strangely quiet. No calls, no contact at all.

"Hey," Quinn said, smiling. "How are you?"

"I'm good," the little brunette answered, her hand reaching up to shyly tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She looked beyond beautiful in her flowered summer dress, arms and legs bare, toned and tan. She looked like she had just stepped out of girl-next-door central casting.

Rachel stepped forward thinking about a hug but then stopped awkwardly, uncertain as to her boundaries. To her surprise, Quinn closed the distance and brushed a cheek against hers, hugging her lightly with one arm.

"Hey kitten," she whispered softly against her ear and then stepped back.

Rachel ducked her head and giggled sweetly.

"So, how's the notorious Nicky A doing?" Quinn asked. "Is he behaving himself?"

"Oh yes," Rachel said, nodding enthusiastically. "I think he's quite happy to be home again. I'm very wary of him lurking around the door though."

"Maybe you should look into getting one of those security doors," Quinn suggested. "Or maybe another cat. That would give him something to occupy himself."

She wondered if Sweetie was still prowling the woods behind Rachel's condo. Maybe she could...no, just stop. No, no, no.

Rachel sucked her top lip between her teeth and she tilted her head.

"That's an interesting idea," she said. "Perhaps he's just not happy that I've been out so often recently."

Quinn nodded thoughtfully as she paused to wonder where Rachel had been spending her time.

"Could be," Quinn said, nodding. "Most cats don't do change in their routine very well. At least he's not peeing in the toaster."

"Oh goodness," Rachel laughed heartily and rested her hand lightly on Quinn's arm.

It wasn't that funny, Quinn thought, but she chuckled anyway. She liked hearing Rachel laugh. In fact, she realized suddenly, how much she liked making Rachel laugh and even more how much she had missed it.

"Miss, your order," the girl behind the counter interrupted, handing her a white box. "That will be $11.83."

Quinn nodded and fished a wrinkled $20 out of her pocket and passed it across the counter to her.

"You were right," she said, holding the box up so Rachel could see it. "It's addictive."

"I told you," Rachel confirmed with a fleeting smile.

"Yeah, well, I blame you and my hips blame you," Quinn said. "We were blissfully unaware and now we are shamefully addicted. I have to hide it so the ne'er do wells that parade through my house on a daily basis don't mow it down in one sitting.

Rachel laughed.

"How is Puck?" she asked.

"He's Puck," Quinn said, shrugging. "I suspect that's all he'll ever be."

"Has he rescued any other damsels in distress?" she asked lightly, not making eye contact.

"Not in my office," Quinn told her.

The girl handed Quinn her change and she thanked her. Quinn waited patiently while Rachel gave the girl her order.

"So," Rachel said, "You're good, then?"

Quinn nodded.

"I can't complain," she said truthfully. All things considered, things were on a pretty even keel.

"Good, good," Rachel said nodding, "That's good."

"It's all good," Quinn added, feeling like an idiot.

"And things at work?" Rachel asked.

"Work is good," Quinn said, desperately trying to find another adjective. "We're pretty busy, swamped actually. So that's... great."

"Yeah, that's great," Rachel agreed.

"Uh huh," Quinn said.

There was an uncomfortable silence and it got the better of Rachel first.

"Yeah, that's.. um, so, I know you aren't looking for Nicky anymore, but you could still, you know, come by... sometime," Rachel said, immediately feeling awkward and inarticulate. "If you're ever out that way. I mean, early in the morning, you know, for work. I get up early and there's always coffee."

_Coffee, coffee was neutral, wasn't it? _

"I know," Quinn said seriously. "I remember. I've missed...uh, yeah, maybe, maybe I can do that. Sometime, if I'm ever out that way. In the morning. For work."

"Or maybe lunch, even," Rachel stammered. "I can do a pretty good lunch, too. If...ever you might want..."

Crap, they both thought to themselves.

The girl behind the counter called Rachel's number and gave her the familiar white box with her order. Rachel paid her and then pocketed her change.

"Well," Rachel said, holding up her box. "I've got my stash for the next few days."

Quinn laughed.

"Who am I kidding?" Rachel added. "I'll be lucky if this lasts two days."

"Serves you right," Quinn teased. "You're a pusher. It's only fair you should suffer the consequences along with the rest of us."

"Ah, yeah. That's the downward spiral," Rachel said dramatically. "It starts with a donut, then a cruller and next thing you know, you're into the hard stuff, coffee cake, muffins. It's the same sad story. Confessions of a pastry addict."

"I'm sure there's a support group for this," Quinn said. "I'm still too much in denial."

Rachel laughed.

"I thought I could see a little powder sugar just there," she pointed at the corner of Quinn's mouth.

Quinn instinctively licked her lips. Rachel closed her eyes.

This disconnected small talk was stilted and made her feel sick. It felt like they'd been apart for months instead of mere days.

"I've got it bad," Quinn confessed.

"What?" Rachel asked snapping out of her reverie, her voice hopeful.

"The pastry thing," Quinn said quickly.

"Oh, oh, yeah," Rachel agreed, clearly disappointed. "I know, me, too. Well, I guess you've got a busy day then, probably?"

"Yeah," Quinn said, nodding. "Actually, yeah. I guess I should, um, get going then."

She pointed over her shoulder toward the parking lot as though that was in any way explaining her day or the obvious reluctance on her part to end their conversation.

"You as well, I imagine," she added.

"Oh yeah," Rachel said. "Stuff, I've got stuff I gotta. Yeah, busy, busy day."

"Yeah," Quinn said, nodding. "I figured."

Quinn took a few tentative steps.

"Quinn!" Rachel said.

"Yeah?" replied Quinn, turning quickly.

"So where are you going," Rachel asked tentatively.

"Actually, I got the short straw," Quinn told her, chuckling "I'm going to go watch for Nelson for a couple of hours. I was just getting provisions."

Rachel nodded, vaguely remembering something about Nelson duty.

"Okay then. Well," Rachel said, her tone resigned. "I guess that I should let you go then."

_But god I don't want to._

"It was really nice seeing you, Quinn, " Rachel told her, the reluctance in her voice readily apparent.

Quinn nodded.

"You, too, Rachel," she answered. "I'm glad...um, it was nice running into you."

They smiled at each other until it become really painfully obvious that they were just standing and smiling at each other and then it just became painful.

_Just go_, Quinn told herself. _Take a step. Just stop staring. Remember, she has a boyfriend. The plan, work the plan. _

Quinn waved haltingly and again turned to go. She took a few steps and, once more, hesitated.

_Don't give up on me._

Impulsively she turned back to Rachel.

"Rachel!" she called.

"Yes?" Rachel said, whirling around.

"This may sound, well, really silly and maybe weird, and if you don't want to that's fine, but would...do you want to come with me?" she asked.

_Oh my god, what the hell did she just do?_

Rachel broke into an excited grin and nodded.

"Yes,"she said without hesitation, trying to contain her excitement. "Yes."

She came skipping over to Quinn. Quinn exhaled sharply, trying not grin like a complete fool.

"So, um, okay, good. Come on," she said, heading toward the car. She held the door open for Rachel and followed her out into the parking lot. Rachel fell into step alongside her and they walked up the block to her car.

"Actually, I should probably tell you up front," Quinn said, backtracking slightly."This whole Nelson thing, deadly dull. I mean, you might want to bring a book or your iPod or something to entertain yourself."

"No, I'll take my chances. I'm sure it will be fine," Rachel said eagerly. "I'm excited."

"And hot," Quinn added. "I mean, like sweltering, probably."

"I don't care," Rachel said. "It's fine. I'm good."

Quinn nodded and unlocked the passenger door. Her smiled faded when she noticed the seat and floorboard were strewn with papers and books and fast food bags. It looked as though she'd been living in her car.

Rachel snickered.

"Oh hell," she muttered. "I'm sorry. I wasn't expecting... company. I've been working a lot."

She started scooping things up and throwing them in the back seat. She took her hand and wiped the crumbs off the seat. It still looked pretty messy so she reached in the back and found a reasonably clean beach towel and draped it over the seat.

"Sorry," she muttered again.

"It's fine," Rachel said, placing her hand lightly on her shoulder. "It feels very...authentic."

"That's very diplomatic of you," Quinn remarked dryly.

With that, Rachel giggled and climbed in. Quinn scoffed, then rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her.

_Oh my god, what have I done? _She thought as she walked around and got behind the wheel.

"Last chance to reconsider," she said, half joking, turning the key in the ignition.

"Nope, you're stuck with me," Rachel said, "I'm totally on board for this adventure."

"Well, I reserve the right to remind you of those words," Quinn said, shrugging as she backed out into traffic.

An hour later, they were parked in a corner of a large auto salvage yard with all the windows rolled down and starting to swelter as the heat of the day bounced off the twisted metal and blasted back at them.

"Whoa," Quinn said. "This is really kind of stupid. I can't believe I've subjected you to this miserable exercise in futility.

"Don't be," Rachel said, wiping her hand across her forehead. She tugged the top of her dress away from her chest, where it was starting to stick and puffed it back and forth, trying to create a breeze.

Quinn stared and Rachel caught her.

"You're not even dressed for this." Quinn said, looking at her. "I mean, you look really...um, nice."

Rachel smiled.

"Thank you," she said.

"Not that you don't always, " Quinn stammered. "Look nice, I mean. It's just you're gonna get all sweaty and those look like good clothes, I mean, like dressy clothes. I, on the other hand, look like a bum and thus am perfectly suited to this crappy assignment."

Rachel laughed.

"You most certainly don't look like a bum," she told her. "Beach or otherwise. You look comfortable."

"That's a nice euphemism," Quinn said, teasing. "For bum, beach or otherwise."

"You're too clean," Rachel said. "We'd have to scuff you up quite a bit for anyone to ever believe you were a bum."

"I don't know," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I've seen some pretty well-toned panhandlers in some parts of town. I may not wear them, but I can pick out designer labels when I see them."

Rachel chuckled lightly.

"Oh, I can sense your skepticism, Miss Berry," Quinn remarked. "I think you doubt my fashion sense."

"No," Rachel said laughing, "Not at all."

"Like that pretty little Marc Jacobs dress you were wearing when you first came in, " Quinn told her.

Rachel smiled.

"You're right," she said, impressed. "It's one of my favorites."

"And then there was the Posen," Quinn remarked. "I like that one, too. And today, you're very pretty today."

Rachel giggled, relishing the praise. Impulsively she leaned over, placed a hand squarely on Quinn's chest and planted a firm cheek on her cheek.

"Thank you," she said, all breathy and coquettish.

"You looked like you were going somewhere" Quinn remarked. "All dressed up for something."

Rachel shook her head.

"Nope," she lied. "It was just a nice day so I felt like being pretty, that's all."

She was supposed to be meeting Kurt and his boyfriend for lunch, but she'd beg his forgiveness later.

Feeling the need to at least make some feeble effort to actually work, Quinn held up her field glasses and scanned slowly across the yard. She watched for any sign of movement but there was only heat waves rolling up.

She put the glasses down on her lap again.

"Let me try," Rachel asked, holding out her hand.

"Okay, " Quinn said as she chuckled and handed over the field glasses.

Rachel put them up to her eyed and squinted into them. She started twisting the focus back and forth and Quinn grimaced. She had just finally focused them to her liking.

"Does anyone every see Nelson?" Rachel asked, still playing with the binoculars.

"Sometimes," Quinn told her, now more focused on things in her immediate field of vision, namely Rachel.

Seriously, seriously hot.

Literally. Her dress was clinging to her her everywhere and Quinn could not stop staring at the low-cut. It was turning her thoughts to fog.

"I can't see anything," Rachel fussed.

"Here," Quinn said, holding out her hand. "Let me see them. You have to find a point and focus to that."

"How?" Rachel asked, dialing focus nobs randomly.

Rachel leaned over, her face near Quinn's

"Like this?" she asked

"Yeah," Quinn said, not even looking at what Rachel was doing.

All she could focus on were the fine beads of sweat glistening on Rachel's upper lip. The slow drop of moisture inching its way down her chest toward her cleavage.

"I can turn on the air conditioner," Quinn said randomly. "You know, for a little bit, if it gets too unbearably hot. Just let me know."

Rachel looked up at her and smiled.

God, she was so close.

"I'm fine," she told her.

"I want you do do something for me," Quinn said suddenly.

"Anything," Rachel told her, licking her lips nervously. "You know that."

_If only that were true. _

"Meet with Santana again," she said.

It wasn't at all what Rachel was expecting or hoping for.

"If you'll go with me," she countered shrewdly without missing a beat.

Quinn smiled.

"Fine, chickadee, " she said. "But I'm just there. I'm not involved. It's all between you and San."

"Deal," Rachel declared, eyes wide and bright. She held out her hand.

Quinn glanced at it and then glanced back up at Rachel who was wearing a borderline smirk. She had the feeling she'd somehow been bamboozled, but wasn't sure how yet. After several minutes, Quinn reach for her hand.

"Also," Rachel added, just as Quinn's fingers touched hers.

Quinn chuckled.

_I knew it. _

"Yes," she said, narrowing her eyes at her.

"I want 20 minutes, " Rachel said evenly, seriously in negotiation mode.

"20 minutes of what?" Quinn asked suspiciously

Rachel's eyes glinted.

"I want 20 minutes of your undivided, personal attention," she said in a sultry whisper, leaning in. "Right here, right now."

"And you think I'll agree to that?" Quinn asked.

"I don't know, " she said, now physically moving closer.

"You have my undivided attention, Rachel, " Quinn told her, eyebrow quirking upward. "I assure you I'm totally...paying...attention to you."

"Personal," Rachel chirped. "Attention."

"How personal did you have in mind?" Quinn asked.

Rachel started chewing on her lip, her mind working.

"I'm not supposed to ask for things," she said, frowning.

It was so painfully cute that Quinn groaned.

"Ask me," she teased.

Rachel looked up, surprised.

"Can I kiss you?" she asked hopefully.

Quinn shook her head.

Rachel scoffed dramatically.

"Mean," Rachel pouted.

"Yes, I am," Quinn admitted easily, nodding. "I keep trying to tell you that."

"No you don't," Rachel said, whining. "You say you are, but you never really are."

"You haven't spent much time with me then," Quinn pointed out quickly. "I'm truly wicked."

"No you aren't," Rachel said, lazily running her fingers over the back of Quinn's hand. "You're kind and sweet."

Quinn scoffed as though appalled.

"And smart and...good," she said, losing her train of though as Quinn leaned into her.

"You aren't going to start singing are you?" she asked, her lips close to Rachel's ear. "Something from the Disney catalog perhaps?"

Quinn pulled back and grinned at her.

"I could," Rachel said, looking her up and down. "I take requests."

"Then I request you come over here," Quinn said. She put a hand around Rachel's wrist and pulled her over, coaxing her across her lap. It didn't take much coaxing. She kept her hands on Rachel's hips, ready to move her off if necessary.

Predictably, Rachel immediately tried to kiss her. Quinn deftly turned her head and Rachel caught her cheek, kissing there instead. She fell forward, resting her full weight against Quinn, her lips going to her neck, her hands into her hair.

They stayed that way, Rachel kissing and nuzzling and Quinn just holding her, until finally the heat inside the car, coupled with the heat between their bodies, drove them apart, both breathless.

"You miss me," Rachel proclaimed sitting back, still pouting about Quinn's lack of real cooperation. She was breathing heavily in the damp air in the hot car.

"Of course," Quinn admitted. She shift Rachel slightly with an audible grunt. Her legs were falling asleep.

"Why don't you come see me anymore?" she asked, running her palms along Quinn's shoulders, then dropping her hands, daring to put both palms flat on Quinn's upper chest.

"Stop asking that, you know why," Quinn scolded lightly, pushing Rachel's hair off her shoulders. She pulled it back, holding it in a messy ponytail at the nape of her neck. That was a mistake because now all she could think about was kissing her throat. She opened her hand and let it tumble back down around her shoulders again.

Rachel grabbed her hands and curled her fingers into Quinn's, then she pushed into her. Quinn pushed back and they went back and forth, tussling for control until they were both giggling.

Seizing the opportunity, Rachel used the distraction and leaned in quickly, stopping mere inches from Quinn's face. She laughed, feeling quite clever, and Quinn smiled at her.

Moving slowly, her eyes locked on Quinn's, Rachel leaned in the rest of the way, expecting Quinn to turn away again. Instead she moved up and closed the distance, kissing Rachel lightly, just keeping their lips pressed together. Quinn allowed Rachel to push her hands down against the seat and hold them there. But when Rachel tried to pull her hands away, Quinn squeezed her fingers and wouldn't let her go.

"Mmmm." Rachel whined in protest.

Quinn chuckled.

Rachel was afraid to move away, fearing Quinn wouldn't let her kiss her again. Frustrated and feeling she had nothing to lose, she swiped her tongue across Quinn's lower lip once, twice. When Quinn didn't move away, she did it again, slowly.

To her surprise, Quinn moaned. Almost immediately her hands were on Rachel, one threading up into her hair and one wrapped low around her her back. Now Rachel moaned, molding herself against Quinn, in spite of the heat.

It was Quinn who broke the kiss, pulling away just long enough to move to Rachel's neck. Rachel wrapped both arms around Quinn's shoulders and held her tightly. After a few hot minutes, Quinn nipped hard at her and Rachel loosened her grip.

"Air," she wheezed. She pulled Rachel back away from her by tugging a handful of silky tresses. She rested her forehead against Rachel's chest, panting heavily. Her vantage down Rachel's cleavage was making her dizzy, so much so that she dropped her lips against the swell of a breast.

"Oh," Rachel gasped.

Quinn sucked, pulling a crimson strawberry blush to the surface and she nipped lightly at it. She could see Rachel's excitement as her nipples peaked fully beneath the soft fabric of her summer dress. It was all Quinn could do not to fill her hands with the soft, firm flesh and tear away the thin fabric standing in her way. She dipped her tongue lower and wetly traced up the smooth curve.

Rachel's lips fell to Quinn's shoulder and she bit down until Quinn moaned. Rachel trailed a strand of similar marks up the back off her neck until Quinn pushed her back up against the seat behind her, forcing distance between them.

"Please don't stop," Rachel said, "I know you don't want..."

Quinn's kiss cut her off. She pulled her back down against her and Rachel melted. At one point she traced her tongue across Rachel's upper lip and followed it with kittenish licks that had Rachel reeling. When she opened her mouth, inviting Quinn to deepen the kiss, she twisted away. At that point Rachel groaned dramatically and fell against her, boneless. Quinn just hugged her and laughed.

"You like teasing me," Rachel fussed quietly, feathering soft kisses under Quinn's jaw. "You are mean."

"No," she said. "And yes, sometimes."

"I just wish you'd..." Rachel started and then realized it was pointless and left it unfinished.

Quinn grunted, echoing Rachel's frustration.

This was the same wall they hit every time.

"You know what, chickadee?" Quinn said seriously.

"What?" Rachel asked, nuzzling against her face.

"Your 20 minutes are up," she said.

Rachel's lips made a pouty little "oh" and she looked at her.

"You're not serious," she said, brow furrowed into a scowl. In her mind that had been a ruse, another clever ploy to engage Quinn physically, but now it appeared to have backfired.

"Totally," Quinn told her with a shrug, already moving her off of her lap.

Rachel grunted indignantly and moved over. She immediately folded her arms across her chest and stared out the window.

"Is there a problem?" Quinn asked, rolling her eyes.

"No," she snapped. "None."

"Okay, good. Just checking," Quinn said lightly.

Rachel huffed dramatically.

"You're sure, so everything's fine?" Quinn asked again, smirking.

"No, of course it's not fine," Rachel snapped. She scrambled up on her knees and moved right into Quinn's face.

"Whoa," Quinn muttered, shrinking back and trying not to laugh.

"It's not funny either," she insisted angrily.

"No, uh uh," Quinn agreed without conviction.

"I don't understand how you can can just...just...ugh," she said, pushing on her shoulders in frustration.

"Just what?" Quinn asked, biting her lip. "Use your words, chickadee."

"Just stop," she said loudly. "How you can just stop...that. I mean, I'm, I, I, I'm so...so..."

"Turned on?" Quinn muttered quietly.

Rachel smacked her on the arm.

"Yes, fine, alright," she said. "I'm so turned on I just, I, I can't even..."

"No," Quinn said. "Apparently not."

"Clearly you don't feel the same way," she said coldly.

"Rachel, I..." Quinn protested, laughing.

"It's not funny," Rachel said. Her voice broke and the tone changed from indignant to wounded and she turned away.

Quinn's urge to laugh vanished instantly. She thought they were playing, but was obviously mistaken.

"Will you just take me home?" she asked quietly. Quinn could tell she was brushing away tears.

"No," Quinn said, shaking her head. "No, I won't."

"Please," she asked. "I just want to go."

"No, not like this," Quinn told her.

She was already reaching for her. She put her arm around Rachel's waist and pulled her back across the seat and over into her lap. Rachel tried to twist and shrug her away.

"Stop," Rachel said, resisting. "Just leave me alone."

"Rachel, no, stop," Quinn said, holding her tightly up against her. Again, Rachel tried to twist away but Quinn held fast. One arm came up flailing, pushing at her but Quinn grabbed it and held it against her chest.

"Quinn, please, don't," she whimpered. "Just let me alone."

"I'm not going to," she told her, thinking how ironic it was.

She pressed her lips against Rachel's temple, holding them there.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Seriously, I'm am."

They remained like that until she could feel Rachel uncoil and mold into her.

"Mean," she said, sniffling.

"No, chickadee, no. Just thoughtless," Quinn said, kissing her cheek. "I'm sorry."

"I don't forgive you," Rachel said, pouting.

"Okay, " Quinn said, kissing her other cheek and under her ear.

"Really, I don't," she insisted weakly.

"Good, I don't blame you," Quinn agreed, kissing her chin, then down her jawline. "I wouldn't either."

"God, it's so hot in here," she said, leaning back, eyes closing.

Quinn's mouth was on hers again, breath whispering across her cheek, sucking, teasing softly.

"I'm sorry," she said again, pulling away.

"You need to stop apologizing," Rachel said, rubbing a finger across Quinn's slick lower lip, and they both smiled.

"Hug me, chickadee," she asked quietly and Rachel wrapped her arms around her and tucked her chin against her shoulder. She stroked her fingers through Quinn's hair.

"This is going to happen every time, isn't it?" she asked.

Quinn nodded.

"I think so, yes," she said.

"And this is why you don't..." she said, leaving it unspoken.

Quinn nodded.

_You're finally getting it, aren't you, kitten?_ Quinn thought wryly to herself.

"It's not that I don't want to," Quinn told her. "It's that I want to all the time."

"I feel stupid," she admitted.

"Don't," Quinn insisted, shaking her head.

"I don't know why I thought you don't, that you didn't feel...," she stammered.

"Oh, I feel. Believe me. I could prove it if there's a doubt," Quinn teased. "But then..."

Rachel turned her eyes up and swept them across Quinn's face.

"I'm going to kiss you," she told her. "Okay?"

Quinn nodded.

She put her hands on either side of Quinn's face and pressed her lips to Quinn's, Quinn kissed her back and didn't pull away when she nibbled and licked and tugged with her teeth. In fact, she let her do pretty much whatever she wanted for as long as she wanted.

"You don't have to take me home," Rachel said after pulling away and laying her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"Okay," Quinn said, sighing and gathering her in. "I won't then."

"I'm trying," Rachel said softly.

"Trying what, kitten?" Quinn asked.

"To not be afraid," she whispered. "Of leaving. To not be worried about the, the, the what if..."

Quinn kissed her cheek while she spoke.

"I don't want to lose you," she said, turning to Quinn. "I'm so...I, I...can't lose you now. You're too...I'd give it all up for y..."

Quinn's lips cut her off.

Quinn was tired of talking so she just kissed her. She kissed her to tell her not to be afraid, to not worry about the what if, or the why, or the why not? She kissed her to say you can't lose me, not now. She kissed her to promise she didn't have to give up anything for her, not if Quinn could help it.

Mostly she kissed her to say all the things she wanted to but couldn't say yet.

And she kissed her to say it all over and over and over again.

**=^..^=**

It was after dark when they pulled into Rachel's driveway.

"I'd invite you in, but I know you won't..." Rachel said.

Quinn nodded.

"You're right," she said quietly. "Let's just let this be a really nice day."

Rachel gave her a small, knowing smile.

Quinn jerked her head in a "come here" and put her arm up. Rachel eagerly scooted across the seat. She thought Quinn was going to hug her, but to her surprise, she pulled her in for a long kiss, hand gripping firmly at the back of her neck. Then she pulled her tight against her and nuzzled against her shoulder.

"Goodnight, chickadee," she whispered in her ear and released her.

Rachel pulled back and stared at her.

"You mean goodbye," she said suspiciously. "Don't you? You're gonna start ignoring me again, I can tell."

Quinn stroked her cheek.

"I mean goodnight, kitten," she repeated.

Rachel braced her arm on the seat and leaned across for another kiss. Quinn complied without hesitation.

"So if I call, you'll pick up?" Rachel asked and Quinn nodded.

"I'll pick up," she told her.

"Okay," Rachel said warily. As if to test it, she moved in and kissed her again. Quinn just relaxed and let her, even feathering kisses up her neck until she ducked her head and giggled.

"Okay, I'll go," Rachel announced.

"Do you want me to walk you to the door?"Quinn asked, eyes sparkling.

"If I said 'yes' would you?" Rachel taunted. Before she could react Quinn was already opening the door and then walking around behind the car. She opened Rachel's door for her and then held out both hands to her. Rachel clasped them and Quinn pulled her up into her embrace, nudging the door closed with her hip.

Rachel held Quinn's hand in both of her as they walked up to the porch. Quinn spotted the cat trap still tucked in the corner.

"I need to come get that," she told her, pursing her lips. She waited patiently while Rachel fished for her keys. When she found them, Quinn took them and unlocked her door for her and handed them back.

Rachel smiled at her then she gasped dramatically, her hand flying up over her mouth.

"My car," she said. "We forgot. It's still parked by the bakery."

"Hmm," Quinn mused. "Do you need it in the morning?"

"Well not right away," she admitted. "But yes, eventually."

"Here," Quinn took her keys again and worked the ignition key off the ring and slipped it into her pocket. "I'll take care of it."

"How, but you..." Rachel protested and Quinn just put a finger to her lips.

"I'll take care of it," she said firmly. "Okay?"

Rachel nodded and Quinn handed her back her keys. She brushed her lips against Rachel's and the little brunette immediately put her arms around her neck.

Quinn chuckled.

"You're like a barnacle," she said, embracing her and squeezing her with a groan, actually lifting her off her feet.

Rachel cheeped.

"See, a chickadee," Quinn said, smiling. "Kiss me goodnight, little bird."

Rachel brushed Quinn's hair back and planted soft, firm kisses against her lips. Quinn flickered her tongue out and Rachel trapped it between her lips, sucking on it. Quinn moaned deep in her throat and pushed Rachel against the door, letting her slide gently down to her feet. Quinn pushed the door open and, putting her hands around her waist, tried to nudge Rachel backwards inside.

Rachel broke their kiss.

"Stop that," she said laughing and clinging harder. "I'll let go when I'm ready."

"Hmm," Quinn huffed, amused.

She kissed all across Rachel's face and down her neck until she was laughing.

"I can't believe we're... doing this," she gasped, happily.

"What?" Quinn asked with mock innocence. "Making out like horny teenagers on the porch?"

"Yes," she gushed, gazing at her.

"After making out all afternoon in a hot car?" she reminded her.

"I know," she said. "Who are you?"

Quinn slow-blinked at her.

"Just enjoying the company," she admitted with a light shrug.

"So you kiss and cuddle all your friends?" Rachel asked, pouting at her.

"Only the_really_ special ones," Quinn admitted, nosing against her cheek.

"Come inside with me," Rachel urged, eyes pleading into hers.

Quinn kissed her softly, lips lingering.

"No," she said gently, adding a subtle shake of her head. "Not tonight."

Rachel exhaled in disappointment and Quinn moved her mouth to the soft spot below her ear, sucking, soothing. Rachel tangled some fingers in her hair and others plucked on her shirt, kneading.

"I liked when you..." she hesitated, uncertain.

"Say it," Quinn breathed in her ear. "Tell me."

"When you kissed..." her fingers fell to the top of her breast, delicately touching the spot where Quinn had suckled earlier. They both looked down and saw the slight blushing bruise. "Here. When you kissed here."

"I see," Quinn said, her voice low.

She walked Rachel back into the corner, away from the glare of the light and prying eyes. She kissed under chin then dropped her mouth to that spot, licking it with a broad swipe. Then she moved to the opposite side and repeated the whole process until she'd created a matching set of love bites. Rachel's chest rose and fell faster as her excitement grew.

"Like that," Rachel said, her voice trembling. "So, so much."

Quinn chuckled, nipping.

Morrre," Rachel groaned, pushing into Quinn.

"Rachel," Quinn said, licking up her cleavage.

"Please baby, please," she moaned.

Quinn's insides went to jelly.

She hesitated, then she closed her eyes and pushed through the nagging instinct to resist. She put her hands on Rachel's ribs, just below her breasts, pushing up, anchoring her. She kissed across one ripe fabric-clad breast, searching until she felt the hardness of her nipple, peaked and bursting against the confines of her dress. Quinn kissed the spot, then wet it with her tongue, coaxing it to its ripest, fullest peak.

"Uhhhnn," Rachel grunted, hands twisting in Quinn's hair, holding her fixed.

Quinn brought her teeth down on the hard bud and Rachel whined loudly and squirmed against her. Quinn liked it more than she ever thought possible. She let her fingers stray up and and they found a twin, She rubbed it, earning a moan from Rachel, then closed fingertips over it, pinching firmly.

She became very aware that Rachel's hand had disappeared underneath her skirt and Quinn hesitated. Her own nipples hardened as her mind reeled at the thought of what was happening beneath the veil of fabric and she felt wetness pool and dull throbbing start between her legs.

"Oh, oh," Rachel gasped, clutching at her with her free hand. "Quinn, no, don't, don't stop."

Quinn bit down again and tugged, pulling and releasing at both breasts. Then she sucked hard.

"Ohmigod, Quinn," Rachel said, shuddering. Soon she was making small whimpering noises and breathing hard leaning back against the wall. She exhaled and curled down, kissing Quinn's head.

Quinn let go and rose up, her mouth over Rachel's, hungry. She licked the full lower lip and brushed over her teeth. Rachel hesitantly slid her tongue forward over Quinn's lip and Quinn moaned, nodding.

_Yes_**, **yes, _let me. __ I want that. _

Rachel pushed it further and Quinn sucked on it sweetly, pulling it deeper into her mouth, purring until Rachel pulled away.

"That was... that was..." Rachel stammered, rolling her forehead' against Quinn's chest. She looked up at her, her eyes charting her features like they did sometimes and Quinn just smiled. Inside, however, she was in turmoil, her thoughts rolling furiously.

_Oh god, please don't say anything, Rachel. I can see your eyes working. Just...don't. _

She didn't. She just rose up again silently asking for kisses. That was the most Quinn could offer her tonight.

**=^..^=**

Quinn walked in the door and put her keys on the counter and sat the box of danish on the kitchen table.

She was emotionally spent and her lips were swollen, chapped, sore to the touch. She'd finally scooted a dazed Rachel in the door, then run back to the car and retrieved her box of danish. She hand it to her, kissed her against the front door for another ten minutes and then finally forced herself away. She barely even remembered the drive home.

"Hey, I've been waiting for you," Noah said, jumping up out of his usual spot in front of the television.

_Of course you have. God, now what?_

"Gee, my lucky day," Quinn muttered as she walked into the kitchen. Noah came charging up behind her. He held up a piece of paper and shook it in her direction.

"What's the meaning of this?" he asked.

Quinn ignored him and walked to the sink to wash her hands. She was drying them when she turned back to face him, leaning back against the sink.

"What's your problem?" she asked quietly.

"This," he said insistently. "This, this."

She just stared blankly at him.

He rattled the paper in his hand as if that explained everything.

"And that is?" she said with a bored tone.

She tossed the towel onto the counter. Noah's eyes followed it and she smirked. He was fussy about his kitchen and that would probably make him crazy.

"Don't play dumb with me," he said. "It's the bill for tuition for this semester."

"Okay, so," she shrugged. "What about it?"

"It's paid," he said. "As, in full."

"Uh huh," she nodded. "And?"

"This was you wasn't it?" he asked, his voice thick. "You did this, didn't you?"

Quinn scoffed.

"I don't know what you''re talking about, " she said easily.

"Quinn..." he started and stopped, putting his hands on the table. "I mean...it's...I can't."

Quinn pushed up from the sink and started past him. She stopped next to him and closed her hand around his forearm.

"You work too hard," she told him. "You work for me, you pick up bar shifts and you go to school. You work too hard. Not to mention all the work you do around here and that you put up with all my total bitchy batshit crazy. Noah, you just work too hard."

"I can't let you do this," he said, turning to look at her. "It's too much."

Again she shrugged and smiled.

"No refunds, no regrets," she said firmly. "Besides, you better than anyone should know that I'm going to do whatever the hell I want and there's nothing you can do about it. I always get what I want in the end."

He laughed and nodded.

"Yeah, yeah," he said. "But still..."

"Not to mention I fully expect free food for life when you're done," she reminded him. "So hurry up and get your ass finished."

He chewed on his cheek and chuckled deeply.

"Thanks, Q," he offered, forcing her eyes to meet his. "For real."

"For real," she repeated.

She squeezed his arm.

"I'm going to bed," she told him with an enigmatic smile and walked off down the hall.

She stopped just shy of her room, remembering.

"Oh, I need you to run an errand with me in the morning," she said, pushing her door open. "Are you available for that?"

"You got it," he said without hesitation.

"Goodnight, Noah," she said and didn't wait for a response before closing her door.

She was sitting on the floor beside Pie's bed, talking and petting him when her phone rang. She scratched behind his ears and then pushed herself up off the floor. She already knew who it was, she didn't need to look at the name.

"Hello chickadee," she said, sitting down on her bed.

"Hi" Rachel said softly. She sounded sleepy.

"Are you testing me?" Quinn asked, slipping off her shoes. "To see if I would pick up?"

There was a muffled giggle that brought a smile to her lips. She tucked the phone against her shoulder and slipped out of her jeans. She folded them and put them across the back of her chair.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked.

"Getting dressed for bed," she told her.

"You mean undressed," Rachel corrected.

"Well, at the moment, yes," she remarked.

"Hmmm," she said and Quinn's eyes rolled.

She could already see where this conversation was going and wondered whether she wanted to go along. She was reasonably certain that one encouraging word from her would be all it would take to start the dominoes in motion.

"What are you wearing," Rachel asked, giggling before she could finish the question.

"Really, Rachel?" Quinn said, shaking her head. "I'm so disappointed. Frankly I expected so much better from a creative type such as yourself."

More giggling and she could hear Rachel shifting around.

"We're not doing this," Quinn insisted.

"What?" Rachel asked, and Quinn could tell she was all doe-eyes and innocent by the sound of her voice.

"You know perfectly well what I'm talking about," she continued. "Stop being cute."

"I can't help it," Rachel whined.

"No, you can't, can you?" Quinn admitted.

"That's not what I meant..." she answered. "I mean, I can't help..."

"I know what you meant, Rachel," Quinn said, cutting her off.

Rachel huffed on her end and Quinn was sure she was pouting.

"That's okay," she said coyly and Quinn grew immediately suspicious. It wasn't like Rachel to give up so easily. "I understand."

" Good," Quinn commented, still waiting for the other designer shoe to drop.

"I can understand how it would be hard for you," she continued. "I'm sure you wouldn't be comfortable with that sort-of thing."

Quinn bit her lip and grinned broadly. Rachel was nothing if not manipulative. If she couldn't get her way directly, she was never above pushing buttons to see what else might work. Now she was trying to tweak Quinn's ego and competitive nature.

"You're right," Quinn agreed, trying to sound convincing. "I'm far too uptight and guarded for that sort of thing."

There was a sudden long silence on the other end and Quinn turned away, chuckling. As much as she liked hearing Rachel talk, there was a certain satisfaction to knowing she got the last word on the little brunette from time to time. No doubt she was now scrambling to find a new approach.

"Quinn?" she said finally.

"What chickadee?" Quinn answered.

"That wasn't what I meant," she said. "I don't think those things about you,"

"Thank you," Quinn said, easing her way under the covers. "But it would be okay if you did. It's kind of true."

Rachel hummed quietly.

"Of course," Quinn continued. "That doesn't really mean I couldn't talk dirty to you if the need should ever arise."

There was a soft squeak and then silence.

Quinn smirked.

"I'm pretty sure I could manage to mumble my way through it," Quinn added. "Get things where they needed to go to get results."

Rachel was still on radio silence.

"Too bad you've fallen asleep, " she nudged.

"No, I haven't," Rachel said immediately. "I was just...listening."

Quinn exhaled deeply. She knew very well that once some things started there was no going back. She'd let herself be unguarded tonight with Rachel and this was the end result of that. Now here she was asking for more. And Quinn found herself again wanting to give it.

"Oh, I see," she said slowly. "I'm really glad we ran into each other. I liked spending the day with you, kitten."

"Me, too," Rachel said. "It was such a nice surprise."

"It was," Quinn said, eyes closing.

She could still recall each touch, every taste, every moment. Rachel's laughing eyes. Her fragile tears. Rachel pressed up against her in the car. Her salty skin against Quinn's mouth. Rachel in the half shadow of the porch light, touching herself while Quinn fondled her breasts. Rachel's wild, sweet, relentless kisses.

Truth was though, beyond all of the physical, Quinn couldn't remember when she'd last been so content, so just purely happy to be with someone.

If for no other reason than that, she wanted, needed to give Rachel something.

Sure, she could tell her to touch herself again, to pinch her hard nipples and then whisper for her to run her hand down between her creamy, soft thighs and make hushed, heated pillow talk in her ear until she came undone, but that wasn't what she wanted to say.

"Rachel," she said, nearly whispering.

"Mmm hmm" she answered, guileless and drowsy.

"I wish...I wish I'd stayed with you tonight," she admitted. "I wish I'd come inside and just stayed."

"Oh," Rachel said, a suddenly soft rush of breath.

"Me, too," Rachel echoed. "M,..maybe next time?"

"We'll see, chickadee," Quinn said, smiling. "We'll see."

"Mmmm" she said. "Okay."

Quiet breathing.

"Quinn?" she said.

"Still here," she answered.

"I thought maybe, if you...were still," she said meekly. "That I could talk if you needed to..."

Quinn smiled slowly. It was so sweet and so hot all in the same thought.

"If I needed to?" she asked

"Um..." Rachel flailed, caught off guard.

She could almost feel Rachel blushing through the phone.

"You mean if I wanted to touch myself, kitten?" she asked, her voice like so much warm honey pouring through the phone.

There was a squeak that may have been a yes.

"Let me take a rain check on that, okay?" Quinn asked.

"Mmmm, okay," Rachel said, clearly disappointed.

"I'm just so tired," Quinn admitted, breathing deeply. "I don't want to...I want to be awake for that, okay?"

"Okay," she said shyly.

"Can you sleep now, kitten?" she asked.

"Mmm hhmm," Rachel answered. "I think so."

"You promise?" Quinn asked.

"Promise," Rachel assured her.

"Okay then," Quinn said. "Goodnight, little bird."

"Night, Quinn," she said dreamily.

She waited until Rachel hung up and then put her phone on the dresser. She turned over and closed her eyes and fell asleep almost immediately.

**=^..^=**

Quinn pulled the car up the drive and Puck pulled in behind her. She turned the car off and got out, then motioned for him to wait. She started up the driveway to the door and hadn't reach the first step when the front door flew open and Rachel came barreling out. She threw herself at Quinn, who caught her with a laugh. Rachel's hands were immediately in Quinn's hair and her lips fixed firmly on Quinn's. She kissed her boldly, nipping, licking, sucking – re-staking her claim to territory. Quinn kissed her back until she remember Noah, then she began gently peeling herself away. She pushed a whining Rachel to arm's length.

"Hi," Rachel said brightly.

"Good morning, chickadee." Quinn answered. "One car, as promised."

She held up her car key. Rachel made a grab for it, but Quinn pulled it away.

"I don't remember getting a thank you," Quinn scolded.

"Thank you, Quinn," Rachel said dutifully.

Quinn shook her head.

"Better," she teased.

She leaned down and kissed Rachel softly. Rachel quickly scooted up into her, tugging against her shirt. Quinn broke away first nuzzling her cheek.

"I gotta go," she said.

"Me, too," she whimpered, pouting. "I'm already late."

"Go on, kitten," she urged scooting her toward the door with a last kiss on her cheek.

She turned and walked back to Noah's waiting truck. She hadn't take more than three or four steps when Rachel came scrambling back down the driveway and jumped on her back, hugging her around the chest and kissing her neck. Quinn turned back to look at her and Rachel kissed her mouth several times, then turned loose and dashed away.

Quinn walked the rest of the way to her ride, a grin plastered on her face. She opened the door and got inside then sat staring straight ahead. Puck was staring at her. Finally he turned the rear view mirror in her direction.

"You've got this kissy-face lipstick thing going on there," he told her.

She looked into the mirror and saw that she had lipstick kisses smeared across her face.

She scoffed.

"Jeez, Rachel," she muttered under her breath and started wiping them away as Puck backed carefully out of the driveway. When she was finished she checked herself over once and then turned the mirror back. Puck's hand came up to adjust it.

"What the hell was all that about?" he asked, steering them out into traffic.

"She was just saying thanks," she told him, shrugging lightly.

"Um, I've been on the receiving end of Rachel's car-related gratitude," he told her.

"Hmmph," she said. She'd forgotten about that.

"Yeah, and I gotta say, that wasn't it," he continued. "No, that was more like 'please fuck me again right here in the front yard' that's what that was."

"No, it wasn't," she said irritably.

"Oh yeah, it was pretty obvious that somebody had a big, bad, banging O and was really happy about it," he remark. "Really, really happy.

"Puck!" she said, turning to face him, glaring. "Shut up about it."

He held his hands up.

_If anything it was a little O_, she thought.

"She was just excited we spent the day together, that's all," she told him.

"I've spent days with girls," he said, shaking his head. "They don't get that excited."

"Like that's a surprise," she muttered.

"Hey, I do good dates," he protested.

She scoffed..

"No you don't," she said. "A booty call is not a date."

"What happened to the whole Puckerman 'Imma ignore her' plan?" he asked, hoping to turn the conversation away from him.

"The Puckerman Method wasn't working," she admitted. "It was making me homicidal and suicidal. We've moved on to a modified version of the Lopez Theory."

"What the hell is that?" he scoffed.

"It's something different," she said, not offering any more details.

"You mean all the teasing and squeezing and none of the serious pleasing," he suggested.

Quinn turned and gaped at him.

"Oh yeah, that's it." he said shrewdly. "I've been there. I know all about that plan. Wind 'em up and leave 'em wet and wanting."

"God damn, Puck," she snapped. "No."

He gave her a hard look.

"Yeah, well, not really. Okay, kind of," she admitted. "Maybe. Look, it's a compromise. Everybody gets a little something out of it."

"You mean a little something-something," he corrected, smirking and Quinn just rolled her eyes.

"And Actor Boy? What's he get out of it?" he asked.

"Nothing, not a damned thing. Blue-fucking-balled. No, wait, dumped, actually," she admitted. "I think anyway. Sooner rather than later."

"And you're okay with this?" he asked. "I mean, really okay with the whole...thing. You're way over the line, you know that, right? "

"I was over the line the first time I kissed her," she admitted. "I was just trying to kid myself. I think I was trying to save her from doing something she didn't really want to do."

"Uh Quinn," he said. "She wants. She seriously wants."

"I know. Look," she said, turning to face him again. "We both know I've been making myself sick over this. I can't keep drinking myself into a stupor every night. Staying away from her is clearly worse than not staying away from her. I just have to accept that."

"And if he finds out?" he asked. "I mean, Quinn, he's gonna find out. Look at her, she's, she's totally crazy about you."

He just laughed.

"We'll deal with that when it happens," she admitted. "I'm certainly not scared of him. He can't fuck me over too much. I worry about Rachel though. She's so...I can't protect her, not in that world. He can make her life miserable and she knows that. I'm actually...scared for her, Noah."

"So where is he anyway?" he asked. "I mean usually he's lumbering around like Sasquatch fucking up your play."

"I don't know," she admitted with a shrug. "I don't ask anymore. Frankly, I've ceased to care. The more she's with me, the less she's with him. That's my new motto until she's with me all the time and he just motherfucking fades away."

He was just staring at her. In all the time he'd known her he'd never seen Quinn like this.

"Damn, Q," he said. "You're...I mean that's some cold..."

"What?" she asked scowling, angry now that the conversation had sucked all the fun out of seeing Rachel. "Fuck just drive, Puck."

She motioned at the traffic in front of them and he turned his focus back to the road.

"If shit gets sideways, you know I got your back, Q," he told her. "You know that, right? If you need it, I'm in. That goes for Rachel, too. You tell her to get me on speed dial. You tell her."

She couldn't help but smile.

=^..^=

"Call for you on line one, Quinn," Brittany told her.

"Thanks, B." Quinn told her with a smile. "I'll take it in my office."

"It's Rachel," she said, looking hesitant.

"It's okay," Quinn assured her.

"And she's crying," Brittany added.

Quinn frowned and nodded, then crossed to her office. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Falling into her chair, she exhaled deeply and picked up the phone.

"Hi kitten," she said.

"Q..Q...Q..Quinn," she sobbed.

Quinn's heart sank.

"What's the matter, sweetie?" she asked gently.

"They, they, they fired me," she wailed.

Quinn scowled, confused. She honestly had no idea what Rachel was talking about.

"Slow down, Rachel." she said, knowing it was probably pointless. "Take a deep breath and tell me what happened."

Rachel took a few gulping breaths and then still couldn't get out more than her name and that she was fired.

"Where are you?" Quinn asked finally.

Rachel stammered out enough of an address that Quinn could find her.

"Stay there," she told her. "Don't move. I mean it."

She hung up the phone and grabbed her things.

"I'll be out for..." she said, walking past Brittany. "I don't know, I'll just be out."

Brittany nodded as Quinn disappeared though the door.

=^..^=

Watching for the address, Quinn spotted it easily. She took the first available parking place she could find and then jogged back up the block and pushed through the glass double doors into the luxurious lobby. The air conditioner blasted her full in the face. She had Puck's truck, so it felt good. Her eyes swept around and she spotted Rachel, a small huddled figure sitting slumped over on a bench near the far wall. Nodding to the security guard, she strode quickly toward her.

"Chickadee," she called and Rachel raised her head. She was on her feet running at Quinn and crashed hard into her, burying her wet face against her chest. Quinn hugged her and kissed her head. They stood unmoving, letting Rachel calm herself and then Quinn moved her back over to the bench she had been waiting on.

She held her hand and talk close to her face in soft, low tones.

"Tell me what's going on," she said.

"This job...I couldn't get it..r..r..right. I tried...b..b...but," she said. "So, so, so they fired me."

Rachel crumpled against her in tears and Quinn just cuddled her.

"It's okay," she said, over and over.

"I've n,n,never been fired before," she sobbed, twisting her fingers in Quinn's shirt. "They hated me."

"They didn't hate you, kitten," Quinn said, exhaling deeply. "They're just idiots."

She was way out of her depth here. She could be supportive and attentive and comforting, but she had no way of knowing if it this situation justified or not.

"I don't hate you," Quinn told her.

Rachel pulled away suddenly and looked at her, face tear-streaked, eyes puddled with new tears.

"Hi," she said with a watery, quivering little smile.

Quinn laughed and clasped her wet cheeks and kissed her salty lips.

"Oh my god, I just..." Quinn stopped herself and flailed.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up. _

"Uh, I just...um, I think we need to get out of here," she said quickly. "Are you okay with that?"

Chin still quivering, eyes swollen and streaming, Rachel just nodded.

"Okay," Quin nodded back in unison, then she kissed her forehead quickly. "Come on, little bird."

She got up and pulled Rachel to her feet. Holding her hand tightly, as though afraid she might wander away, she led her through the lobby and out into the sunny heat. Once outside, she pulled her close and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hugging her as they walked to the truck. Reaching it, she opened the door for Rachel and waited while she climbed inside, then she leaned in and pulled her seat belt across her lap.

"A real seat belt," she said, her voice small.

"You can thank Puck," she told her. "He did it."

Rachel gave a contented squeak and kissed Quinn's cheek.

Closing the door, Quinn sprinted around and got behind the wheel and put the key in the ignition. She was just starting to turn it when she heard fresh sobs. She leaned her head on the steering wheel.

"I'm s,s,s,s sorry." Rachel sputtered.

Quinn reach over and unlatched her belt and Rachel was instantly pressed against her

"Just cry," Quinn said, kissing her temple."It's okay. No one's in any hurry today."

It took nearly 20 minutes for Rachel to exhaust herself.

"Where's your car?" Quinn asked when the torrent of tears finally stopped.

Rachel looked around in the parking lot and pointed back in a far corner.

"Okay, we're going to go on a little errand and then I'll bring you back here to get it, okay?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded, trusting.

"Don't let me forget your car," she told her, shaking a finger.

Rachel giggled.

"Thank you," she said quietly.

Quinn smiled at her and shook her head.

"Better," she teased.

Rachel scooted closer again and kissed her, her hands touching lightly on Quinn's face. Quinn eased away.

"You're welcome," she said. "Put your seat belt on."

Rachel moved over and bucked herself in and Quinn wheeled them out of the crowded lot, then turned into mid-day traffic.

"This will take forever," she fussed with a sharp exhale.

She felt Rachel's hand land softly on her arm and rest there.

"Are we going to the beach?" she asked, staring out the passenger window.

Quinn frowned, puzzled, then realized what she meant.

"No," she told her. "But if you want we can go eat after."

"Okay, "Rachel said quietly.

Clearly, she still wasn't herself again yet.

Quinn pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed one of her frequent numbers.

"Hey doll-face," a voice greeted.

"Are you busy?" she asked. She knew the answer was yes, but she'd get around that.

"Slammed," Santana said. "Why?"

"I need 30 minutes of your time," she told her.

"Business or personal?" Santana asked, mostly being nosy.

"Both," Quinn told her immediately. "I'm bringing Rachel with me."

"Oh...kay," Santana said, very surprised.

"Can we come there?" Quinn asked.

"It's chaos," she warned. "But come on, I'll find somewhere we can go to escape the bedlam."

"Thanks," she said, but Santana was already gone.

"Where are we going?" Rachel asked, not really expecting an answer.

"To see the Wizard," Quinn told her.

**=^..^=**

A/N: Hopefully most of the freaky formatting issues have been remedied. FFN: strike two. Actual content, well, for ill or naught, that's on me. **  
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	14. Chapter 14: Fresh Business

Fresh Business

"Is this okay?" Rachel asked.

Quinn looked at her and then followed her eyes down to their clasped hands.

"Of course, it's fine," Quinn replied, squeezing her fingers and pulling her closer. They walked into the sleek office building and paused at the elevator bank with a cluster of people waiting for the next car. Quinn noted the woman next to them. She was openly staring, her demeanor disapproving. Her eyes dropped to their hands and when her eyes came back up Quinn's was waiting for her, one brow cocked defiantly.

_Say something. I dare you. __ Just say something and I'll kiss her right here._

The woman's eyes widened. She shifted uncomfortably and looked quickly away. Quinn smirked smugly.

When the elevator doors slid opened, the crowd surged forward, but Quinn tugged at Rachel, holding her back.

"We'll wait," she said, glaring at the woman as the doors closed.

"What was that about?" Rachel asked.

"Just some asshole," Quinn muttered. "Don't worry about it."

Another car chimed nearby and they stepped inside.

"Oh, yay, let me," Rachel piped, standing in front of the bank of buttons.

"17th floor," Quinn told her and Rachel pressed it like it was a vending machine. She seemed so enthused Quinn half expected her to press all of the remaining buttons as well. Just in case, she took her hand and pulled her beside her.

"Are there cameras?" she asked, eyes darting up at the ceiling.

"Let's just go ahead and say that there are," Quinn replied. "And act accordingly.

Rachel's lips pursed and her eyes tilted up. When there was no further response she noted Quinn was leaning her head against the wall, her eyes shut.

"Are you tired?" she asked, tipping her head over onto Quinn's shoulder.

"Yup," she told her honestly. "Very."

Rachel rolled into her, hugging her.

"I'm s..." Rachel started but Quinn interceded.

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she said firmly. Rachel swallowed and tucked her lips in.

The elevator doors whirred open and two other passengers boarded. Rachel reluctantly moved back into her own space, but gripped Quinn's with both hands. When the doors opened on the seventeenth floor, Quinn nudged her.

"Out you go, chickadee," she coaxed, keeping one hand on the small of her back. She guided her to the correct suite.

"Welcome to Oz," Quinn remarked dryly, pulling the door open and allowing Rachel to step inside ahead of her.

The reception area was cavernous, plush, hushed. The girl at the desk raised her eyes slowly. Her gaze washed over Quinn then shifted to Rachel. Her bored expression never changed.

"Yes, can I help you?" she inquired, her tone brusque, distant.

"Santana Lopez, please," Quinn said.

"Is she expecting you?" she asked.

"Always," Quinn replied pointedly.

The girl made a pinched face and punched numbers on her phone.

"Yes, Ms. Lopez," she said, dripping syrup. "You have...people here to see you. Yes, Ms. Lopez. I'll tell them. Yes, of course, Ms. Lopez."

_You tell her, Ms. Lopez. _

Quinn chuckled smugly.

"No, Ms. Lopez.. I don't believe he's called yet today."

Rachel walked up behind Quinn. Quinn felt her fingers close around her wrist, seeking reassurance.

"Ms. Lopez said she'll be up as soon as she can," the girl told them, her tone cordial, even respectful. "She asked that you would please make yourselves comfortable."

Quinn nodded, wondering if Santana had actually uttered those words and deciding it highly unlikely.

"Fine, thank you." she replied coolly.

"Can I offer you anything?" the girl inquired.

_I don't know, can you? _

"I'm fine," Quinn said quickly. "Chickadee?" She turned to Rachel.

"Some water, please," she said meekly.

"Still or sparkling?" the girl asked, finally acknowledging her.

"Still," Rachel answered. "Please."

"Of course, please excuse me," the girl said. She pulled off her headset and stepped away from her desk.

Rachel spotted a comfortable couch and beckoned to Quinn, who followed and sat beside her.

"A nap would be good," Quinn mumbled. "Right about now."

Rachel reached out to lightly fluff Quinn's fly-away hair until she pulled her head away. She settled for rubbing her fingers lightly up and down the inside of her arm.

The receptionist reappeared and presented Rachel with a bottle of chilled water and a glass of ice before resuming her place behind the phones. Rachel sipped quietly straight from the bottle. They waited for about ten minutes before Santana burst through the inner doors into the lobby.

"Greetings kids," she said, looking perfectly poised, but sounding harried. She didn't pause to chat. "On your feet. We're walking."

She took off out into the hallway leaving Rachel and Quinn to scramble after her. They caught up with her waiting for the elevator. Doors whispered opened and they boarded. Santana repeatedly punched the button for the roof.

"Total fucking nightmare," she muttered under her breath and Quinn and Rachel glanced at each other.

The doors hissed opened onto a glass atrium. Santana held the doors and jerked her head for them to go ahead. Again, Quinn scooted Rachel out first and then followed after her leaving Santana bringing up the rear. Santana glanced around at the occupied tables and shook her head.

"Too crowded," she intoned in low whisper to Quinn."Too many ears."

She pushed through the door and out onto the sunny patio. She walked to a table at the farthest corner and fell into a chair. Quinn and Rachel joined her. Almost immediately she was lighting a cigarette and inhaling deeply.

"Ahhhh, that's...sorry, sorry, " she said, waving the cigarette and blowing smoke away into the wind. "It's been horrible. Two clients imploded over the weekend and we're managing the fallout. But that's enough about that ridiculous shit, so what's up my girlies?"

Rachel looked at her, her eyes anxious.

"It's okay," Quinn said, coaxing her. "You can tell her what happened."

Rachel took a deep, quavering breath and launched into her saga. There was hand-wringing, a few slow, trickling tears, but she got through it in reasonably good order. When she finished, she and Quinn stared intently at Santana, who by this time was on her second cigarette and staring up at the clouds.

"How did you get this job?" Santana asked absently.

Quinn had to bite her tongue. Santana had told her Finn's father was behind Rachel getting this job. Was she asking just to see if Rachel knew that?

Rachel flickered nervous eyes to Quinn who nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. Quinn wondered what she would say.

"Um, Finn got it...I mean, he helped me," she said quietly.

"Did you audition?" Santana asked.

"No," Rachel answered.

"Do you normally?" Santana pressed.

"Sometimes," Rachel answered. "It depends."

Santana pulled on her cigarette and nodded and drifted back into her thoughts.

"Okay, so why did you want this part again?" she asked finally.

Rachel looked genuinely confused.

"Well I, I mean, it, it seemed like a good one shot part," Rachel stammered. "And it's a Lane Hudson production."

Santana blew out a stream of smoke and exhaled sharply.

"Rachel," she said pointedly, turning to face her. "You need to decide what you want to be when you grow up."

Rachel gave Quinn a confused look. Quinn held up one hand, trying to tell her to relax. Santana watched the exchange and quickly stubbed out her cigarette.

"Okay, doll," she said, talking directly to Rachel. "I know that Quinn's your boo and all that, but she's not going to be much help to you here. That's why she got you to me, okay? I know you hear it all the time, but for real, trust me about this, okay?"

Again, her eyes shifted to Quinn for confirmation.

"Listen to her, chickadee," she told her. "She knows this shit."

Quinn looked to Santana who was stifling a giggle behind her hand and glared at her.

"Yes, chickadee," she parroted and Quinn gritted her teeth. "Listen to Santana, for she is wise and all powerful. So again, I'll ask you: What do you want to be when you grow up?"

"An, an..actress," she said hesitantly.

Santana shook her head.

"First of all, we don't g..g..guess, we know," she scolded. "Second of all, I know that we gotta work to pay bills and all that, but do you really want to be doing hack series work or do you want to do other things? Like films or plays or what?"

"I want to be doing real work, like films," she said, now with much more confidence.

"Much better," Santana noted. "So in light of that, why are you so torn up about what happens over a one-off part on a series that probably won't even be around next season? Truth, it's about one more piss-poor rating away from being canceled."

"Because they...I mean, I, I, I've never..." she stammered, unable to say it.

"Okay, yes, it sucks to be fired. But honestly, it sounds like it was just a bad match," Santana said. "You weren't a pain in the ass were you?"

Rachel shook her head.

Santana narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

"You weren't late or impossible to work with?" she pressed.

"Most definitely not," Rachel said adamantly.

"So maybe you really were simply miscast. It happens, especially considering the circumstances. Who knows. Maybe the director's girlfriend or niece or neighbor needed a job suddenly and you got bumped out."

Rachel frowned.

"What you can't do, doll, is fall apart," Santana told her. "You gotta say, "Fine, thank you for the opportunity, maybe next time" and go on with your plan. But let me guess, your people don't really have a plan. They just keep sending you out for anything that comes up, right?"

Rachel nodded slowly.

"I used to have a plan," she admitted quietly. "They said it was...unrealistic."

Santana chuckled smugly.

"No doubt, no doubt. No worries. We'll work on that," she said, clearly mulling it over in her mind. "Why don't you see if you resurrect up that unrealistic plan of yours. Maybe it is, maybe it isn't, but I would at least like to look at it for myself before I decide. Can you do that? "

"Yes," Rachel said eagerly.

"Wait, hold on," she said, holding up a hand. "We're getting a little bit ahead of things here. Rachel, I can talk to you about this stuff, but you realize that I'm just a publicist, right?"

Rachel nodded.

"That doesn't mean I always want to be just a publicist," she continued. "But for the moment, right now, that is my job title and I don't want there to be any confusion about that. Do you understand what I'm saying to you?"

"I think so," Rachel said quietly. She stole a quick glance at Quinn, who was rolling her index finger as though saying, "Get on with it."

"Sometimes it just takes the right client to get the ball rolling," Santana said, slowly, staring hard at Rachel. "Know what I mean?"

Again, Rachel nodded.

"So, if you were to, you know, find the right client," Rachel asked. "What would you want to tell them?"

Santana smiled.

"I like her," she told Quinn. "Didn't I say from the beginning, 'I like that girl?'"

Santana in full schmooze mode was as subtle as a bulldozer. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I don't really remember that, no," Quinn said, just to be annoying.

"Okay, let's get serious here," Santana said, rolled her cigarette lighter with practiced ease. "We're gonna play some 'what if'' for giggles, okay? Q, put your fingers in your ears or dangle on the ledge over there or whatever angsty crap you gotta do to deal because you're not gonna like this part."

Quinn scowled and Santana just threw up a quick "oh well" hand. She turned back to Rachel.

"You're probably not gonna like it either, munchkin," she said honestly.

Rachel looked anxious and immediately started working her lower lip with her teeth.

Santana exhaled dramatically and shook herself out as though excising demons.

"Now," she said firmly, "Finn Hudson."

Quinn groaned loudly, squinted her eyes shut hard and fell back in her chair. Rachel looked as though someone had stuck a pin in her and what little air she'd managed to build up fluttered out.

"Sorry, it's gotta be done," Santana said. "I'm not going to keep talking around some ginormous annoying slouching elephant . We're gonna talk about it and walk around it and kick in it the gonads if we need to, but we're gonna deal with it now so we can put it away. Understand?"

She was looking squarely at Rachel, and only Rachel, who nodded.

"Alright," Santana chirped, rubbing her hands together. "Excellent."

Rachel looked nervously to Quinn, who was puffed up like an angry bird and glaring at Santana. Rachel began chewing on her fingernail.

"Ah, ah, no. Ignore her," Santana scolded. "She always gets like that when she can't control everything. You might want to take notes and see what you're getting yourself into."

"Goddamn it, Santana," Quinn protested..

Santana ignored her and physically turned Rachel's chair so she couldn't see her.

"Like I said, ignore her, " Santana repeated. "And if she can't behave and STOP BEING A DISTRACTION, I'll send her to wait in the fucking car."

Quinn huffed and scooted her chair a foot away. Santana smirked and stole a quick glimpse at her watch. Rachel caught it and her lip started quivering.

"Don't mind that, sparrow," Santana said.

"Chickadee," Quinn corrected.

"Whatever the fuck ever," Santana chided, letting her voice rise up in annoyance. "Anyway, munchkin, we can't get this all done today. I'm going to be honest with you about that. So let's get the Finn crap put away and then we'll start fresh another day.

Rachel sat mutely. Santana and Quinn both knew that wasn't a good sign.

"So, Hudson, do you have any legal ties to him?" Santana inquired. "Do you own property together? A car, a house, a whiny pet? Anything like that?"

Rachel shook her head.

"No joint bank accounts, credit cards, anything?" she continued.

"What the hell?" Quinn snapped. "Are you a fucking divorce lawyer now, too?"

Santana stood up and lugged her chair about five feet away, then she walked over and nudged Rachel up. She pulled her chair over next to hers and waited for Rachel to sit down. She took out a tube of bright red lipstick our and, after a moment's hesitation, she drew a bright red X on the concrete about a foot in front of Quinn.

"We're gonna play some hardball, Q. If you step over that, I'll slap the shit out of you," she told Quinn. "You know I mean it, too. Now sit here and keep your bossy mouth shut."

She turned to walk away, then paused.

"And don't you dare even think of calling Brit." she added.

"Oh and this," she held up her lipstick. "You owe me another one."

She sat back down and looked at Rachel.

"Ignored the Wicked Bitch of the West over there," she told her, and Rachel tucked her lips in, stifling a grin. "So to answer HER RUDE ASS QUESTION, no I'm not a divorce attorney, but we don't want you having any connection to this guy that he can use to tether you to him or his people or his family. You need to be able to step away cleanly for whatever reason you should want to step away. Understand?"

Rachel nodded.

"Munchkin, " she said. "I know you can speak. I've heard you. Don't be shy. And don't look over there."

Rachel swallowed hard and twisted her hands together.

_At least she isn't crying_, Santana thought to herse

"I know you're worried about his old man," Santana said, leaning in, putting her elbows on her knees to get closer to Rachel. "I'm not going to lie to you If he wants to mess with you there's not much you can do about it. Yes, he could be a real problem."

Rachel turned ashen and clutched at herself. She moaned lightly.

"But I'm hoping that he won't," she said quickly. "Rachel, you're not a threat to him and, quite frankly, he's a busy man with more important things to concern himself with than tanking your career out of spite. First and foremost, he's a pretty hard-core businessman."

Rachel wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself.

"I don't know," she said. "He's never liked me very much. He's not made any secret about that fact."

"From what I hear he doesn't have much use for his son either," Santana countered. "He certainly doesn't go out of his way to make things any easier for him."

"No, he doesn't," Rachel agreed. "Ironically, most people believe just the opposite. Finn tries, but, well, his father is a hard man to please under the best of circumstances. Their relationship is, it's complicated."

"Sad to say, but that may work in our favor," Santana said carefully.

"Hmmph, that's possible." Rachel admitted.

"Look Rachel," Santana said. "Don't worry about the things we can't control, that we can't change. We'll just work around them as they come up."

Rachel nodded, but it was clear from her expression she wasn't nearly as confident as Santana.

"Listen to me," Santana said, scooting her chair even closer so that they were both leaning in, huddled together. "This is what I want you do to do."

=^..^=

Quinn slouched, absently tugging at her lip, watching as Santana and Rachel talked. Santana kept moving closer and closer and now they were practically huddled against each other, speaking in hushed tones. She could tell from Rachel's demeanor she was anxious, perhaps even upset, about whatever they were discussing. She kept pulling in on herself, as though trying to make herself smaller and smaller. At least Santana appeared cognizant of that and was being surprisingly accommodating.

The seats Santana had chosen were in direct sunlight and it was hot. Uncomfortable, Quinn shifted around, thankful she'd brought her sunglasses or she would have been downright miserable. She leaned her head back, closed her eyes and fell asleep. She didn't wake until she felt Rachel touch her shoulder some 30 minutes later.

=^..^=

Rachel hugged Santana fiercely.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said, patting her lightly and rolling her eyes at Quinn. "You love me now. Well, just wait until I've really done something. It'll blow your mind."

Rachel stepped away, smiling. She looked back and forth between Quinn and Santana who were staring hard at each other.

"We good, doll?" Santana asked.

Quinn exhaled sharply.

"Oh come on, Mama, you know you love me," Santana teased and Quinn grinned.

"Yes, we're good," she admitted reluctantly.

Santana chuckled.

"See, I knew it," she sassed, winking at Rachel. "She loves me."

"Whatever," Quinn answered.

"Okay my girlies," Santana announced, nudging them toward the elevator. "Get out of here so I can get some real work done. It's not like I got all afternoon to be chatting with the girls."

Quinn grabbed her wrist and squeezed.

"Thanks, San," she said sincerely.

"No worries, doll-face," she told her. "Holler at me, we'll talk."

Quinn nodded.

"Get that stuff to me, Munchkin," she reminded Rachel. "I'm not playing"

"I will," Rachel promised.

"Gotta dash," she said pulling the door open. "Oh, the security guard is a huge perv, so don't be making out in the elevator. Just sayin."

With a happy smirk, she disappeared into her office barking questions at the receptionist like a machine gun.

Rachel and Quinn walked to the elevator and Quinn pressed the button. Rachel reached for her hand as it came away and held it.

"Better?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded, exhaling deeply, not trusting herself to speak yet.

The doors open and Quinn held back, letting Rachel step in ahead of her, then followed after. As soon as the doors closed, Rachel pulled her back against the wall and kissed her.

"What was that for?" Quinn asked, keeping her close.

"Just saying thank you," Rachel answered with a grin. "For today."

"You're welcome," Quinn replied, brushing her nose against her cheek.

Rachel turned and faced the front the car, leaning back into Quinn. She pulled both of her hands around her waist, holding them over her stomach.

"You do realize that there is all this other room in here," Quinn teased, glancing around the empty car.

"That's okay," she answered. "I'm good."

Quinn clasped her hands over Rachel's belly and pressed her lips against the back of her neck. Rachel tilted her head to the side to give Quinn better access.

"Do you think the security guard really watches?" she asked, glancing up, apparently looking for a camera.

"It's a little late to be asking that," Quinn remarked, nuzzling against her ear with her nose. "Don't you think?"

She tightened her grip, lifting Rachel off her feet and kissing her neck.

Rachel squealed happily.

=^..^=

Quinn pulled into parking lot and drove back into the far corner where she pulled up next to Rachel's car. She turn the car off and leaned back against the seat.

"Thank you for taking me today," Rachel said, fingers trailing down Quinn's face.

"You're welcome," Quinn said easily.

"I feel so much better," she said, clearly relieved.

"I can tell, I'm glad," Quinn replied.

Rachel's eyes fluttered across her face. She scooted closer and leaned in for a kiss, but paused and caught Quinn's eyes, apparently asking permission. Quinn nodded and moved forward, meeting her lips.

"Hmmm, I think Santana's gonna be good for you," Quinn said, her hands twisting in Rachel's hair.

"Mmm hmm," Rachel agreed, kissing around her mouth.

"She's very good at what she does." Quinn continued.

"I'm sure she is," Rachel agreed. She dropped her mouth to Quinn's neck and sucked. Quinn's eyes rolled up and closed as Rachel's teeth nipped along her throat and across her collar bone.

"Will you come over tonight?" she asked softly.

"Not tonight, kitten," Quinn answered.

Rachel exhaled sharply and frowned.

"Why not?" she asked with a pout.

Quinn's eyes opened, her reverie broken.

"I can't," Quinn answered. "Let's just leave it at that, okay?"

The lower lip inched out further. Quinn leaned over and trapped it between her teeth. She tugged on it, then sucked.

Rachel moaned her approval.

"Mmm, you like that, don't you?" Quinn teased, nuzzling against Rachel's cheek.

"Yes," she confessed. "I like everything you do to me."

Quinn scoffed gently.

"I haven't really done anything," she admitted, kissing her neck.

"Well you did last night," Rachel correctly quietly, her voice trailing away.

"What did I do?" Quinn asked, lips pressed against her ear.

"You know," Rachel said shyly.

Quinn shook her head.

"Nuh uh, " she said, looking puzzled. "I forget. It was so long ago."

Rachel grunted and slapped at her playfully.

"You could do it again," she said. "You know, if you wanted."

"If I remember, I'm sure I'll want to," Quinn confessed, "But it's not going to happen in a crowded parking lot in broad daylight."

"Hmmm, maybe I could show you," Rachel suggested, moving back against Quinn, trailing her mouth up Quinn's neck.

"Maybe you could, kitten," Quinn said slowly.

Rachel's hand moved boldly towards Quinn's breast, but Quinn caught her wrist with a sharp laugh.

"Nope, not here, not now," she scolded, smirking. "But sometime.

Rachel whined and fell back against the seat.

"You need to go home, chickadee," Quinn told her.

The whining grew louder.

"No, I don't want to go home," she fussed. " I want to stay with you. Can't we go somewhere else? Let's go look for Nelson,"

She had both hands on Quinn's arm, pulling on her enthusiastically. Quinn laughed loudly.

"I don't think anyone's ever actually asked to go look for Nelson before," she told her, amused by the suggestion.

"So can we go?" Rachel asked eagerly.

"No," Quinn answered, still laughing.

Rachel fell back, sulking.

"But..there is a supply order that Puck made for the office," Quinn said slowly. "I suppose we could go out and pick that up."

"Yes, yes," Rachel chirped. "Yay, supplies."

"But then I'm bringing you right back here and you're going home, no fussing," Quinn insisted.

"Absolutely," Rachel promised happily. "Cross my heart."

"Okay," Quinn agreed. "I'll hold you to that."

Rachel threw her arms around Quinn and kissed her heatedly. Quinn was breathless when she finally turned her loose.

"So much for not making out with you in a crowded parking lost," she muttered as she steered them out into traffic.

Rachel grinned smugly.

"Put your seat belt back on." Quinn said, shaking her head.

=^..^=

Quinn pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed her office.

"Little Bo Peep, we find lost sheep," Brittany answered in a sing-song voice. "And puppies and kittens and ducks, too."

"Hey B, " Quinn said. She was expecting Noah to answer.

"Quinn, I was getting worried," she answered. "Is Rachel okay?"

"No worries, everything's fine," Quinn assured her. "I just wanted to check in and let you know I'm going out to pick up that feed order Noah placed."

"Oh, okay," Brittany said slowly, probably writing it down. "I'll leave him a note."

"Where is he?" Quinn asked.

"He left early for class,"she answered. "He took your car. That's okay, right?"

"That's fine," Quinn replied. "I just thought I'd save him the trip."

"Maybe they have ducks," Brit said helpfully.

"Maybe so," Quinn replied. "I'll have to check and see and let you know. I'll talk to you later, Brit."

"'Kay, bye." she said.

Quinn hung up.

"Why do you need _feed_?" Rachel asked.

"We don't," Quinn answered. "Well, not a lot, but they also sell pet food and other things in bulk. Noah made some kind of sweetheart deal with them and we get awesome prices. I think he cleans their pool or feeds their horses or something. I don't ask, I just pay the bill."

Quinn turned into the parking lot and backed up to the loading bay.

"Can I go inside?" Rachel asked.

"Sure," Quinn said. "Sometimes they have animals. Go see."

Rachel scurried out the door and into the store while Quinn waited her turn at the loading dock.

"Hey Quinn," the lanky sales clerk said, greeting her warmly. "I was expecting Puckerman."

"Hey Blake," she said. "Nope, you got me today."

"That's a much better deal," he said easily.

Quinn smiled and shook her head.

"I don't know about that," she said lightly.

"I'll get your stuff loaded up for you," he replied. "Go on inside where it's cool. I'll come find you."

He started tossing sacks into the bed of the truck. She gave him a wave and followed after Rachel. She found her inside cooing over baby rabbits.

"Look, look," she said, rocking on the balls of her feet, leaning down over the cages. "Can I pick one up.

"Yeah, go ahead," Quinn said. "Careful, they may bite."

Rachel scooped up the nearest one she could get her hands on and pulled it up against her cheek.

"Hey Quinn," Blake said, walking up behind her. "Here's your ticket. We had everything. You can check it first if you like."

Quinn waved him off, taking the clipboard he was holding out to her, and signing his copy of the order. When she handed it back to him she noticed him staring openly at Rachel. She nudged him with the clipboard to get his attention.

"Oh, yeah, right," he said, laughing awkwardly. "Thanks."

"Sure," Quinn said, slightly annoyed.

"Maybe your friend needs some help picking out a bunny," he offered helpfully. They both watched Rachel, who was now picking up bunnies, one by one, cuddling them and putting them back. She noticed them staring at her.

"I don't want any of them to feel left out," she explained.

"Spreading the love," Blake said, nodding. "That's cool."

"Exactly," Rachel said. "They all should get affection."

"Hey, I'm Blake, by the way," he said, taking a few steps closer and holding out his hand. "My dad owns this place."

"Hi, Rachel," she said, shaking his hand briefly. "Quinn's my...my friend."

"Cool," he said. "I know Puck. We hang out sometimes."

"Ah yes, Noah," she said, nodding.

"Noah, yeah," Blake repeated, giggling slightly. "Yes, he's a wild dude."

They both laughed and turned to Quinn, who was staring at them, stone-faced.

"Uh yeah, guess I need to get back to the stockroom," Blake said, clearing his throat. "Nice to meet you, Rachel."

"You as well," she said, already back to picking up rabbits again.

"Good to see you, Quinn," he said with a nod.

"Take it easy, Blake," she said, giving him a smile and letting him off the hook.

"You, too," he said.

She watched as he disappeared down the stacks of feed bags toward the back of the store. She walked up behind Rachel.

"Do you have a system?" she asked, amused.

"Not really," Rachel answered. "No."

"You do realize that they're running back around to the other side of the pen, " she pointed out. "You're probably picking up the same ones over and over again."

Rachel paused, considering what she said.

"Then I'll just have to start all over again," she said reasonably.

"No, no you don't," Quinn said, tugging on the back of her dress. "Come on, Dr. Doolittle."

Rachel held a small spotted rabbit up against Quinn's cheek.

"See how soft?" she mused.

"Very," Quinn agreed.

"He needs a kiss," she said, nudging it forward.

"I'm not kissing that rabbit," Quinn told her. "You kiss it."

Rachel chuckled. She kissed the bunny on the head and placed it back in the cage.

"Come on, Crabbypants," she said.

She took Quinn by the hand and pulled her toward the door. Quinn rolled her eyes and let herself be lead to the truck. She opened the door for Rachel, then walked around and got behind the wheel. She looked over to see Rachel waving to Blake.

"He's a sweet boy," she commented. "I thought you said all Noah's friends were troublemakers."

"I'm pretty sure he deals weed," Quinn said. "I think that's how Puck knows him. He's his dealer."

"Oh, that's not...such a big deal," Rachel said hesitantly. "Right?"

Quinn scoffed.

They had only been driving a little while when Rachel realized Quinn wasn't headed back toward town. To her surprise, Quinn steered off the roadway and started up a tree-lined drive. She drove part of the way up the driveway then steered into a roundabout at the midway point and turned the truck so that it was facing back out toward the driveway. Instead of pulling out again, she shifted into park and turned it off.

"Who lives here?" Rachel asked in a hoarse whisper.

"A long-time client," Quinn said in a normal tone. "They're in Europe for a few weeks and we're house sitting for them.

"So it's okay that we're here?" she asked quietly.

"Why are you whispering?" Quinn asked, smiling. "Yes, it's fine. I thought we might sit here and let the traffic ease up a bit."

Rachel grinned.

Quinn pulled out her phone and checked to see if she had messages.

"Maybe we could play Words with Friends." Quinn suggested, wiggling her phone. Rachel plucked it out of her hand and tossed it gently into the back seat.

"Hey," Quinn yelped, frowning. "Not a fan of the game, I guess, huh?"

"It's fine," Rachel said, scooting across the seat until she was right up against Quinn.

"Can I help you?" Quinn asked, trying to scowl.

"No, I'm good," Rachel told her, her mouth moving to Quinn's neck. "I think you should move over here."

She was tugging at Quinn, wanting her to move out from behind the steering wheel.

"You do?" she asked. "Why is that."

"Just...come on," she fussed, pulling on her arm.

Quinn unfastened her seat belt and shifted over. Rachel climbed across her lap to make room.

"See, that's much better," she said smiling, wigging against her.

"You're right, it is," Quinn agreed, her hands sliding to Rachel's lower back. "I like this."

"Me, too," Rachel said. "Very much.

Her mouth was on Quinn's and her hands were on the back of Quinn's neck, playing with her hair. Quinn moaned.

"Have you remembered yet?" Rachel asked, licking Quinn's ear.

"Mmm, maybe," Quinn taunted. "Are you asking me to do that again?"

"Yesss, yes, please," she said, her breath hot in Quinn's ear.

Quinn put her hands on Rachel's waist and pushed so she was leaning back against the dash. The dress she was wearing buttoned down the front.

_Okay,_ Quinn thought, _we can work with this._

She ran both hands up and cupped Rachel's firm breasts, squeezing. Rachel wasn't wearing a bra and Quinn wondered if she ever did as she felt her nipples rise into her palms. Rachel groaned and bit her lip, letting her head fall back.

Quinn began slipping the dress buttons open, one by one, until it was undone down to her stomach. Cupping her hand at the back of Rachel' s neck, she pulled her down against her, sealing their mouths together. She licked across her lips and Rachel copied her. Quinn moved her mouth down to Rachel's neck, biting and licking, until Rachel moaned and squirmed in her lap.

Again Quinn leaned her back against the dash, this time following after her. She pulled her dress open, baring her pert round breasts. She heard Rachel's breath catch and then quicken again. She kissed her softly and brought her hands up, brushing her knuckles across her exposed nipples.

"Ahhh," Rachel gasped.

"Are we good, kitten," she asked softly.

Rachel nodded.

"Tell me, baby," she insisted. "Say it."

"So good," Rachel whispered, pulling on Quinn's shoulders with both hands. "Yess.

She found Quinn's mouth again and slipped her tongue inside. Quinn sucked on it and closed her hand over a breast. Rachel moaned hard when she pinched and pulled a taut nipple.

"More," Rachel whispered. "Kiss them."

Quinn dropped and licked a rosy nipple. She trapped it between her teeth, then swirled her tongue around it. Rachel grabbed her head with both hands. Quinn lapped with her tongue and Rachel twisted her hands in her hair, holding her fixed.

"Oh my god," she whimpered. "Don't stop."

Quinn tugged,with her teeth then closed her lips over it and sucked. Her fingers plucked at its twin. Rachel was curled into her, pushing her breast into her mouth and whimpering.

"Oh, Quinn," she said, her voice a husky whisper. "It's... making me.. .ohmygod. I think... ohmygod."

Quinn traded breasts and the minute her tongue made contact she felt Rachel shudder. She nipped and Rachel cried out sharply, still shaking. Quinn licked slow circles until Rachel pulled her up, kissing her.

Quinn tasted tears and wrapped her arms around her, leaning them both back against the car seat. Rachel twisted away and buried her face in Quinn's neck. Quinn just held her, quietly stroking her hair until she felt her kiss softly under her chin.

When Rachel sat up she was clutched her dress tightly closed around her.

Quinn frowned.

"Oh no, don't do that, kitten," she said, pulling her hand away and kissing her open palm. "Let me see you, okay?"

Rachel's eyes flitted back and forth between Quinn's

Quinn gently pried her other hand off, letting the fabric fall open. Quinn rose up and kissed her neck, then down her chest, touching her softly. She fell back against the seat, keeping her hands around Rachel's waist.

Rachel smiled at her nervously. Quinn took her hand again, kissed her palm, then she placed it over her own breast, holding it there. Rachel's eyes widened and her mouth popped open. She bit her lower lip, chewing nervously.

Rachel squeezed, tentatively, and then looked up at Quinn, who nodded. She did it again, more forcefully. She brushed her fingertips back and forth over Quinn's hard nipple. It made her moan softly. Eager, Rachel pinched hard. Quinn grunted and winced.

Rachel's brow furrowed and she tried to pull her hand away, but Quinn caught it.

"It's okay," she said, reassuring her and placing it back. "Just not so hard."

Rachel nodded and a look of fierce concentration came across her face. Quinn bit the inside of her cheek so as not to laugh. She finally just closed her eyes while Rachel kneaded and tweaked her breasts. Anytime something made Quinn moan, she did it again.

Finally she leaned down against Quinn, kissing her softly, her head against her shoulder.

"What am I doing wrong," she asked.

Quinn chuckled.

"You're not doing anything wrong," she replied, surprised. "Why would you think that?"

"You're not..." she said, swallowing hard. . "You don't...I can't make...you..."

Quinn opened her eyes and looked at her.

"Maybe if you took your shirt off," she suggested.

"I'm not getting naked in this car," Quinn said firmly and Rachel frowned.

"I am," she protested.

"No, you're not," Quinn said, shaking her head.

"But I want to make you... um, feel good, " she insisted.

"Kitten," she said. "That's probably not gonna happen. Not like this."

"Then I am doing it wrong," she whined.

"No, you're not," she said, struggling. "It's just...Rachel, sometimes..."

Quinn growled.

Before Rachel could get too far gone in her pouting, Quinn took her hand and put it underneath her shirt. Rachel's mood changed. Once again, Rachel's lip tucked underneath her teeth.

After several more minutes of kneading, stroking and pinching, Rachel pushed Quinn's shirt up. Quinn gasped and started to protest. She stopped immediately when Rachel took a nipple in her hot mouth. She moaned and closed her eyes, threading her hand in dark, silky tresses, as Rachel bit and licked.

"Mmm Rachel," she said, surprised at how excited she was felt just from Rachel sucking on her breast. Rachel's hand crawled up and closed over her other breast, squeezing and tugging.

Truth be told, Quinn didn't want to have an orgasm. She hadn't wanted her their first time together to be a sweaty, groping moment in car, but honestly, Rachel was making it very, very difficult to resist.

Rachel was now kissing her face.

"Tell me how," she said, between wet kisses. "Tell me what to do."

Quinn panted against her. It was all she could to keep from rolling her over and having her way with her right then and there.

"Okay," Quinn said, nodding. "Just.. I'll..."

She pushed Rachel back against the dash and ran her hands over her breasts again, both hands squeezing her berry-ripe nipples. She wanted to pull her dress away and leave her naked. Instead she dipped her head and licked across her belly button. Rachel giggled and squealed. Quinn kissed and lapped again and Rachel squirmed. Quinn licked up and planted a kiss on each pert nipple, watching them darken and peak to full pout. Then she fell back against the car seat, pulling Rachel down against her.

Rachel's hands went back to her breasts and her mouth along her neck.

"Rachel," Quinn asked, groaning.

She pushed her down and the little brunette pulled a nipple between her lips, sucking and biting.

"Ahhh, yes," Quinn gasped, rolling her head back as Rachel flicked her tongue across it. She traded back and forth on Quinn's breasts, quickly learning what to do, when to be soft and when not to as Quinn felt the tense fire building in her stomach work its way between her thighs.

Now when Rachel sucked and bit down hard, it finally exploded. Quinn gasped and shook, clutching at her.

When the shuddering subsided, Quinn fell over sideways in the seat like a rag doll. Rachel giggled, clearly very pleased with herself. Eventually, Quinn caught her breath and forced herself upright, grunting with the effort.

"That was...unexpected," she noted, smiling. Rachel took both hands and smoothed her wild hair back away from her face. Quinn, in turn, reached out and started buttoning Rachel's dress. Rachel watched her intently. When she was finished, she smoothed it down carefully with her hand.

"There," she announced.

"Thank you," Rachel said quietly.

She snuggled against Quinn, wanting to be kissed and held. Quinn happily obliged until she noticed the sky was darkening.

"The traffic is probably okay by now," she said, lips against Rachel's brow. "We should go."

To Quinn's surprise, Rachel agreed.

She leaned forward, kissed Quinn's lips once, twice, then her cheek and climbed out out of her lap. She secured her seat belt and smoothed her skirt, all without a word.

Quinn blinked, not sure what to think. She had been expecting more resistance. She started the car and guided it back out into traffic still mulling those the same thoughts. Rachel rode with her head lolling back against the car seat, one hand poised on the window frame, her face turned away.

Was she now having doubts, regrets? There had been a brief moment of insecure shyness when Rachel had tried to cover herself. Quinn was surprised that she couldn't bring herself to ask directly.

Though it was less than a foot, Quinn felt the distance between them uncomfortable.

"You cold?," she mumbled. "I can put the window up."

Rachel turned her face to her. She didn't smile, but her eyes did.

"I'm fine," she said.

"Let me know," Quinn said.

Rachel reached out and trailed her hand down the length of Quinn's arm, flexing her fingers here and there

"Everything is okay," she told her. "Just thinking about some things Santana said."

"Anything I can help with?" Quinn asked.

"No, she gave me some...homework, I guess you could call it," Rachel said and didn't elaborate.

Quinn nodded, choosing to believe it, but still relieved Rachel left her fingers touching her the rest of the drive.

The parking lot was practically deserted now and Quinn easily cut across to Rachel's car.

"Here we go, chickadee," she told her, pulling alongside.

Rachel's squeezed her bicep.

"You still won't come home with me?" she asked even though she knew it fruitless.

"No," Quinn decline gently.

Rachel was nothing if not persistent. Before she had a chance to sulk, Quinn leaned over and kissed her cheek, nuzzling against her face.

"It's not that I don't want to be with you," she explained "It's, well, it's that I know I'll never want to leave."

Rachel made a happy, chirp, satisfied with the explanation.

"I don't want you to leave," she whispered.

Quinn exhaled deeply. She felt like there was no point in having this same discussion over and over again and wished Rachel would stop bringing it up.

"Don't be mad because I keep asking," Rachel said.

"I'm not," Quinn said, knowing it was on the edge of being a lie.

Rachel swallowed hard, clearly still distracted. Quinn wanted to ask her what she was thinking, feeling, but decided against it.

"I'm sorry you had a bad day," Quinn said.

"But I had a great day," Rachel insisted. "You fixed it. You made it a great day."

"Don't expect that all the time," she said with a laugh. "You'll be disappointed."

Rachel smiled and stared down, her hands resting limply in her own lap.

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly, not making eye contact. "I won't."

Before Quinn could say anything Rachel was throwing her arms around her and pressing against her. Quinn relaxed into the embrace.

"Goodnight, kitten," she told her, hugging her, burying her face in her hair.

"Thank you, Quinn," she said. "I know this stuff isn't really your problem. I know you don't have to be here."

"You're wrong," she insisted. "I do."

Rachel kissed her, heatedly, then pulled away, panting softly into her face.

"I love you," she whispered.

It was followed by a tiny, almost inaudible, gasp as Rachel realized what she'd done.

Quinn froze.

Rachel was out of her arms and out of the truck before Quinn could even begin to worry about trying to respond. Quinn watched as she got into her car and quickly started it.

Rachel smiled, blew a kiss and drove away. Quinn sat, slack-jawed, staring.

=^..^=

Rachel rolled her window down trying to get more air. Her hands were shaking even as she gripped the steering the wheel. She cursed herself.

She kept casting her eyes up at the rear-view mirror wondering if Quinn was still sitting there or if maybe she was following her.

It had slipped out. It had just slipped out as naturally as saying hello or goodbye.

It was out there and she couldn't take it back.

She didn't want to take it back. She meant it. But the timing. She only wished the timing...it was so awful.

=^..^=

"Hi, this is Rachel. I'm so sorry I'm not available to take your call," came the familiar greeting.

Quinn grunted in frustration and disconnected the call. There was no point in leaving a message. She'd left at least half a dozen messages already and she was starting to feel like a stalker. So far none had been returned.

"God damn it, Rachel," she muttered under her breath.

It had been two days since Rachel made her her whispered confession in the empty parking lot. Almost a full 48 hours since she'd waved and left Quinn reeling, watching her brake lights fade away into evening traffic.

Quinn made it all the way home and through a full 10 hours before she first tried to call and had gotten only Rachel's voice mail. At first she wasn't worried. She knew Rachel well enough to know that she was probably freaking out and just avoiding her calls. She decided to wait it out, to let Rachel make the next move.

When a full 24 hours passed without any contact, then Quinn got seriously concerned. To such extent that she drove over and rang the doorbell. There was no answer and the house was quiet, dark. For the first time since returning Rachel's house key, Quinn regretted it.

When she came home without making contact, Puck took one look at her face and scrambled around madly. He gathered a few necessities and headed to Sam's to wait out the storm.

She made it through another 18 hours and was now frazzled enough she was doing the unthinkable, she was calling Santana.

"Hmmmello," Santana slurred.

"I can't find her," she stated in a rush of words. "I don't know where else to look."

"Wha, find who?" Santana asked, perturbed.

She was eyeballing the clock on her bedside table. It was her first day off in she didn't know how many days and she had hoped to sleep late and spend a quiet, lazy morning with Brittany. When she finally realized the time, she gritted her teeth and clenched her fist.

"Q, what the fuck?" she snapped. "Ah, look at the time. Have you lost your mind? Can't find who?"

"Rachel, San," Quinn huffed. "I can't find Rachel. I've called, I've gone to her house. It's like she's just vanished."

Santana mashed her face into her pillow and let loose a muffled scream. Brittany rubbed her shoulder and Quinn pulled her phone away from her ear, looking at it with a frown.

"She hasn't vanished, Quinn," Santana reassured her through gritted teeth.

"How in the hell do you know that?" Quinn snapped, letting her worry get the better of her. "She doesn't do this, just go off the grid. What if she's..."

"Why not?" Santana said calmly.

"Why not what?" Quinn asked, pulling herself out of her own head.

"Why can't she just disappear?" Santana asked reasonably. "You do it all the time. Why can't she?"

"She just hasn't before," Quinn said, shaking her head. "No, no, it's just not like Rachel, especially not after... No, I can't believe she wouldn't tell me. Something's happened. I'm sure of it. I need to find that shithead boyfriend of hers. "

Santana exhaled dramatically.

"No, no, you don't need to find anybody," she said, her tone firm, almost scolding. "Calm yourself the fuck down. She's fine."

"Wha...how do you know?" she said, her voice shaky. "What if he's done something?"

"I just know," she told her. "Quinn, she's fine. No one has done anything to anyone. Stop imaging things."

Quinn's mood darkened instantly as clarity took hold.

"Cut the shit, Santana, " Quinn hissed. "Where is she?"

_This wasn't going to go over well. _

"She's working some stuff out," Santana explained. " Some of it's work, some of it's not. That's all I'm saying. I'm not telling you anymore."

"That's bullshit," Quinn spat. Now it was Quinn's turn to scream. Santana pulled the phone away, waiting with a bored expression.

"You done?" she asked when Quinn came back on the line.

"I don't like you in the middle of my personal life." Quinn fumed.

"Too bad, doll," she said calmly. "That's part of the package. Rachel is under my wing now. I'm just looking out for her. "

"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Quinn asked angrily.

"I know that," Santana said quietly. "And part of that is you put her in touch with me. And you did that because you believe in me and you trust me. Am I right?"

Quinn didn't answer right away.

"Am I right," Santana asked again emphatically.

"Yes, you're right," she admitted.

"Of course, I'm right," Santana said smugly. "So you know I'm not going to do anything to hurt either of you. If I thought you needed to know, I would tell you, Q. But for now, just know that she's safe and she's working some stuff out, okay While she does that, you need to stay out of the way."

"I can't believe she just disappeared," Quinn said, clearly hurt. "Not even a word. Not after...no, that's not like her. I don't believe it._"_

"Admittedly, I had some influence there," Santana admitted. "I didn't think that you'd be so frantic."

"I'm not...frantic," Quinn muttered.

"Oh yeah, you frantic, " Santana teased. "You're most definitely frantic. I didn't realize it had gotten to that point. My bad, doll-face."

"It was just that she..." Quinn said and then thought better. "It was at a...never mind."

"Not never mind," Santana said sympathetically. "Don't put this on Rachel. I said,"No distractions." Put this on me, Q. I own this."

"Rachel doesn't listen to anyone," Quinn said, pouting.

"Funny, that's what I thought, too," Santana admitted. "But she does, if you put it to her in the right way."

"Like it's her idea," Quinn said, smirking.

"Exactly, " Santana said with a laugh. "She's a master manipulator, but there are some cracks in the armor."

"A few," Quinn admitted.

"She's fine, Quinn," Santana said again. "She's getting her shit together, that's all. And believe me, keeping that girl away from you may well be the hardest thing I've ever done in my career. In my life, in fact."

Quinn scoffed.

"Quinn, Quinn, Quinn, Quinn, Quinn," Santana said. "If I didn't know you, I'd think you were some sort of saint from listening to her."

Quinn laughed.

"I'm doing my best to put holes in her overly-inflated notion of your abilities to walk on water," Santana assured her.

"Thanks," Quinn said dryly. "So where is she?"

Santana took a deep breath.

"Home, she went home," Santana admitted.

"No she's not," Quinn snapped.

"I mean, like home with her family. I asked her to go back to her roots, to take stock of herself and decide where she wanted to be in her life, professionally speaking."

Quinn breathed a huge sigh of relief. She didn't know where that was, but she was sure it was safe and away from him.

"I will tell you that she wanted you to go with her," Santana added. "But let's just say I talked her out of that. I may have also told her I'd explain everything to you so you wouldn't worry about her."

"San," Quinn scoffed angrily. "This is pretty shitty, even for you."

"Yeah, I know, " Santana said, already reading Quinn's thoughts. "I figured she'd be back before you came unwound. Like I said, I didn't realize how y'all had gotten to be so co-dependent."

"I'm, we're...not." Quinn countered.

"Right," Santana said dryly.

Quinn rolled her eyes. Santana's career reboot wasn't getting off to a great start.

"Great, no I've left a about a half a dozen pitiful voice mail messages," she admitted. "What the hell does she think about all that?

"She hasn't heard them, " Santana admitted slowly.

"God damn it, Santana, " she snapped.

"I have her cell phone," Santana continued, ignoring Quinn's tantrum. "She's got a disposable for the trip."

"Aaaauuhh," Quinn vented. "Bullshit, bullshit, bullshit."

"Yeah, I figured you'd say that ," she admitted. "I haven't listened to anything. I just recognized the number on caller ID."

Quinn groaned and stared at the phone in her hand. She seriously wanted to climb through it and kill Santana at this moment.

"Give me the phone number," Quinn hissed menacingly.

"Q," Santana said, trying to placate her. "She'll be home soon. Just let it be."

"San, do not make me come over there," she warned. "For real, give me her number. Right now!"

Santana exhaled deeply.

"I'll have her call you, okay? Santana suggested. "Everybody wins."

Quinn growled.

"Fine, do it." she snapped. "Now."

"Okay, I'll get with her..." Santana replied, but the Quinn disconnected the phone before she could finish.

Santana groaned.

"Is she mad?" Brittany asked, quietly.

"Yup," Santana answered. She sounded as drained as she felt. "Pretty pissed."

Brittany rolled over and snuggled against, kissing under her chin.

"I told you so," Brittany said, scolding her.

"Yes, B," Santana admitted. "I know you did. And you were right."

"Rachel's gonna be mad, too," Brittany reminded her. "She thinks Quinn hasn't called."

Santana closed her eyes. Why was this already so difficult?

"Brit, damn it," she fussed. "There was no way to get anything done with them mooning around each other. This way Rachel gets her ducks lined up."

"Ooh, Rachel has ducks?" Brittany asked excitedly, sitting up to look at Santana. "Did she get them at the feed store? I wish Quinn had let me go, too."

Santana bit her lip.

"No baby, " she told her. "It's just an expression."

"Oh," Brittany said, clearly disappointed.

"It means that Rachel has her priorities straight," she explained. "But no ducks, sorry."

"Oh," she said, "That would have been fun."

"Uh huh," Santana agreed, not really paying attention.

"Quinn won't stay mad," Brittany said, reading her thoughts. "Rachel won't either."

"Yeah, well," Santana said, shaking her head. "I don't care if they do."

Brittany smiled, knowing full well it was a lie.

"Call Rachel," she told her. "Just let them talk to each other. It'll be fine."

Santana dialed Rachel's temporary number.

=^..^=

Quinn paced around in tight little circles. When her phone chirped, she glared at it, fully expecting to see Santana's number on the screen. She was certain Santana would call back with a load of flimsy excuses why she couldn't reach Rachel.

Instead, it came up unknown number.

WTF?

"Hello," Quinn said cautiously.

"I swear I didn't know," Rachel said in a rush. "I didn't. I just thought you just weren't calling me. You know I would not ignore your calls, not even if Santana told me to. I just wouldn't. Quinn, don't be mad."

Quinn smiled.

"It's alright," she said quietly. "I'm not. I'm not mad. I was just...worried."

They both paused and breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Actually, that's a lie," Quinn said. "I'm so mad at Santana I could spit nails. Maybe I'll get Noah to kick her ass. It'll be like an early Christmas present."

"Don't," Rachel replied.

"I called you," Quinn said. "I left messages, too. I'm gonna get Santana to erase them now, but I called."

"I know you did. She told me," Rachel said."And don't you dare."

"Of course I called," Quinn repeated. "I mean, how could I not after...and then I thought you were... aahh,shit"

"Quinn," Rachel said. "Everything is... hi."

Quinn could tell she was smiling.

"Hi," Quinn said back, grinning. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I am, " she said. "I'm home with my dads."

"Dads?" Quinn repeated stupidly.

"Yes, I'll have to explain that sometime," she said. "But for right now, let's just say I've just been doing a lot of thinking. About a lot of things. I know you're mad at her, but Santana really did me a huge favor making me do this."

"As long as you're okay," she told her. "The rest is great. I'm glad you're connecting or whatever, just as long as you're safe. That's what I cared about."

"My goodness," Rachel said, stifling a yawn. "It's really early."

Quinn chuckled.

"Yeah, San was pissed about that," Quinn told her. "Serves her right. I'm going to call her every morning for a month."

"You sound tired," Rachel said.

"Yup, little bit," Quinn confessed. Actually she was exhausted and feeling every bit of it now that her adrenaline-fueled panic had burned itself out.

"Maybe you should lie down," she suggested. "Try and nap."

"Mmm, no, I can't," she protested. "I've got too much to do and Noah's gone into hiding."

Rachel laughed.

"Quinn," she scolded mildly.

"I didn't do anything," Quinn insisted.

Rachel clucked her tongue softly, dubious.

"No, really, he just...it was self-preservation. I know he's at Sam's"

"Quinn, go to sleep," Rachel insisted. "Just for a little while."

"Maybe," she agreed, curling into her blanket. "I'll set my alarm."

Her alarm clock was so far away. Quinn didn't want to get up. Maybe she didn't have so much to do today.

Rachel listened to her rustling about, shifting position. She waited until there was only her slow, steady breathing.

"I didn't mean to say it," she admitted quietly.

"Mmmm," Quinn replied, too tired to say much else.

"But I'm not sorry I did," she added firmly.

There was a soft chuckle in response.

"I meant it." Rachel insisted. "I mean it. I...do"

"Rachel," Quinn answered.

"It's how I feel. I know it's wr..." Rachel rambled, anxious to explain herself.

"Rachel?" Quinn interrupted.

"Yes?" she said.

"Shhhh," Quinn shushed her.

'It's just, you don't have to..." she tried again.

"Chickadee," Quinn insisted. "Stop, really."

Rachel groaned, frustrated.

"Finish your homework, do whatever you need to do," Quinn said. "Don't worry about anything here. All is well."

"Promise?" she asked meekly

"I promise," Quinn reassured her.

"See, right now, this is where I'm supposed to get to kiss you," she said, causing Quinn's heart to flutter.

"We'll get around to that again," Quinn told her. "No worries, kitten."

"See...stuff like that," she added. "That's why I said that...thing I said."

Quinn exhaled softly.

It was a good sound. A happy, contented sound and Rachel grabbed on to it with her whole heart.

"And I thought it was hard saying goodbye when you're just across town," Quinn confessed. Rachel

closed her eyes tightly and hugged the phone.

"So don't say it," Rachel suggested. "Don't say anything. Just...sleep."

"I can't," Quinn said

"Try. Put me on speaker." Rachel insisted. "Close your eyes and just talk to me."

Rachel talked quietly and Quinn's answers got shorter and fainter until they finally stopped altogether. She was sleeping with the phone still in her hand, clutched against her chest.

Rachel waited a little while longer, until she was sure that Quinn was really sleeping, before she hung up the phone.

It was true what she had told her about Santana's advice being a huge favor. From almost the moment she arrived, she'd felt layers of issues and worries that she didn't even know she carried stripping away. She felt calmer, fresher, more free to be herself than she had in a long, long time. She was getting back to the core of who she really was and seeing again who she really wanted to be. She knew now what she wanted and what she was willing to do to make that happen.

She felt excited about everything, all the possibilities, that were hers for the taking.

Above everything else, she knew one thing and she said it out loud now because she needed to and because she could:

"I love you, Quinn."

=^..^=


	15. Chapter 15: Talking Terms

A/N: Not as long as I'd like and very much not proofed, but I wanted to get something up this weekend. Thank you for all the lovely comments. I'm glad people still seem to be enjoying this story as much as I do writing it.

Chapter 15: Talking Terms

Quinn woke to the sound of pots and pans rattling in the kitchen.

_Noah_, she thought.

Someone must have told him she'd gotten in touch with Rachel.

She glanced to the clock on her desk, groaned at the time and dropped her face back into the pillow . She'd slept hours longer than she'd planned and the work day was nearly finished. Hopefully nothing too pressing reared its head and she could play catch up in the morning. With a reluctant groan, she forced herself out of bed and shuffled into the bathroom. She brushed her teeth and washed her face, trying to come back to life again before dealing with other humans.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror and decided this was as good as she was going to manage for what was left of the day.

She walked down the hall into the kitchen and was surprised to find it wasn't Puck clattering around and cooking but Santana.

"It's about time you came to life," she said, popping a bite of cucumber in her mouth.

"Why are you here?" Quinn asked, her tone cold.

"Yeah, see I figured you'd still be all pissed," she explained. "So I thought I'd come over and cook something. That way we could eat a little something and you could vent and get it all out of your system. Everybody wins."

Quinn shook her head, smirking.

"Brittany made you," she said.

"That, too," Santana admitted.

"So where is Britt?" Quinn asked, sitting down at the kitchen table.

"She's home with Mr. Crackers," she told her. "She didn't want to leave him by himself."

"Who in the hell is Mr. Crackers?" Quinn asked, looking confused.

"Her rabbit," Santana explained.

"Since when does Brittany have a rabbit?" Quinn asked.

"Since today," Santana said, sounding less than thrilled. "I took her to that damn feed store because she wanted to see the ducks. They didn't have any ducks, they had chicks and bunnies."

Quinn was laughing quietly.

"You're lucky they didn't have ponies," Quinn muttered.

"Shut up," Santana fussed. "I figured a rabbit was better than a damn chicken running around squawking and crapping all over the yard."

"This is karma," Quinn pointed out. "You should have just let me get her a kitten like she wanted."

"Whatever. I don't know, maybe," she said, rolling her eyes. "At least this thing is in a cage."

"Yeah, right," Quinn scoffed. "We'll see how long that lasts. I give it a week and she'll have it sleeping with you. Oh my god, you so deserved this."

She doubled over and shook with laughter.

"Pretty brave considering I'm cooking your food," Santana warned.

Quinn straighten up and wiped her eyes. Her curiosity got the better of her and she wandered into the kitchen and stood peering over Santana's shoulder.

"Whatchya making," she asked, leaning closer to rest her chin on Santana's shoulder. It was a small, familiar gesture, but Santana recognized it for what it was, forgiveness.

Santana motioned to a large dutch oven on the stove.

"Pozole," she said and smiled when Quinn gave a tiny excited whimper. They made it through college living mostly on Santana's cooking and she knew what dishes would make her friend forget even her worst transgressions. "Chilaquiles in green sauce, rice, beans. The usual."

"Are those plantains?" Quinn asked, hopefully.

"Of course," she said. "For aranitas."

"Can I help?" Quinn asked.

Santana smiled.

"No girlie, just go sit down," she told her. "I got it covered. Not to mention it's a such nice Puckerman-free zone up in here at the moment. Let me enjoy it."

Quinn squeezed Santana's shoulders and returned to her chair.

"Rachel sounded happy," Santana said, slicing vegetables slowly. "I talked to her this afternoon."

"Yeah, I guess," Quinn remarked, not willing to give Santana a completely free pass.

"I think this outing might help her really get her shit together, you know? " Santana continued. "About a lot of things."

"Hmm, we'll see," Quinn said, shrugging.

Santana put her paring knife down and turned to face Quinn.

"Alright, I'm sorry," she said. "I should have told you. I won't make that mistake again."

Quinn exhaled. Santana didn't apologize easily. She could count on one hand the number of times she'd heard her say "sorry" and still have fingers left over. This was serious for her. She was worried about starting things off on a wrong foot.

"I told Rachel this business between the two of you was, well, just that, between the two of you," Quinn said, frowning slightly. "I wanted to stay out of it."

Santana waited knowing there was more to come.

"Now I'm not sure that's going to work," Quinn said, shrugging. "The me staying out of it part."

"Okay," Santana said, not sure where Quinn was going. As a rule, considering how much they butted heads, she and Quinn normally worked together pretty well. They were both shrewd and stubborn and they played to the other's weaknesses. Quinn was business savvy, but shied away from the socializing and selling aspects whereas Santana reveled in the smoozing and selling but hated sweating all the nitpicky details.

"So what are you saying?" Santana asked/

"I'm not really sure," Quinn admitted. "But I don't want you second-guessing yourself because of me. You need to do what you think is best for Rachel's career. For right now, I think this was the best thing for Rachel. I think good things will come out of it."

"Me, too," she agreed.

"Even if it made me a little crazy," Quinn added.

"Just a little," Santana teased.

They were both quiet, thinking about the situation.

"I need you to be a part of this," Santana admitted.

Quinn nodded.

"I know," she replied.

"And not just for Rachel," she continued. "We're... this is for all of us."

"I know," she said again. "Look, we'll figure it out, San. We'll make it work. We always do."

Santana nodded, chewing nervously on her thumb.

"She feels very guilty, " Santana said finally. "Rachel, I mean."

Quinn's head snapped up.

"What?" she said, frowning. "Why?"

"She thinks she's a bad person," Santana said, shaking her head. "Your little... situation."

Quinn groaned.

_Of course, it had been too easy. _

"Mind you, I'm only telling you because I know it's bothering her, " Santana admitted. "More so, I think it's distracting her."

"I knew this was going to happen," Quinn said, jaw clenched. "I knew I should have stayed away from her until... until... whatever."

"You can say the name," Santana prodded.

"I really try not to," Quinn admitted. "I've been acting like... well, you know what I've been acting like."

"Like he doesn't exist," Santana confirmed.

"Lately, yeah," Quinn replied. "He's been conveniently absent."

"That's going to end eventually," Santana pointed out.

"I know," Quinn agreed. "I don't want to think about it."

"Well before you wrap yourself all up in fresh barbed wire, she has felt this way for a while," Santana said. "It's not a recent thing. This is a very new experience for her, I think."

"All the more reason I should have known better," Quinn grumbled. "Acted... better."

"Stop it," Santana scolded. "I didn't tell you so you could take back your 'Quinn the bleating martyr queen' crown."

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"I told you so you could understand her, why she does things," she admitted. "That's all. So you could help her work through her feelings. I can deal with the industry stuff, but I can't fix this stuff, you can."

Quinn grunted unhappily.

"Don't you dare use it as an excuse to push off, to do the Fabray 50-yard dash," Santana warned, her tone hard. "I know you too well. You're usually looking for any excuse to run at this point."

"What point is that?" Quinn mumbled.

"We both know what's up here," Santana chided.

"It's just.. I don't know what it is," Quinn said. "It's gotten different."

"Pain in the ass says 'what?' " Santana asked, leaning in dramatically.

Quinn scoffed.

"I said there's more going on," she confessed.

"So spill it, Fabray," Santana snapped. "Always with the smoke and mirrors. Just be direct for a change."

_Fine._

"She told me she loves me," Quinn admitted quietly.

"And what did you say?" Santana asked immediately, brows quirked up, clearly not the least bit surprised.

"I didn't really say anything," Quinn confessed.

"Wow, I'm stunned," Santana said sarcastically, clutching her chest in mock surprise.

"Hey, wait a minute," Quinn retorted, bristling. "She basically blurted it out and bolted. Then she disappeared off the face of the earth."

"Oh," Santana said quietly, backing off. "I see."

"Yeah, so don't be getting all preachy about things until you know the full story," Quinn scolded. "I wasn't just blowing it off."

"What would you have said?" Santana prodded.

"Honestly? It's probably just as well," Quinn admitted. "No doubt I would have said something snotty and ruined it. This way I didn't get the chance."

"I think we both know that wouldn't have happened," Santana contradicted. "Always the hard ass."

"I don't think 'we' both know' anything of the sort," Quinn said sincerely. "I'm pretty good at saying the worst possible thing at any given moment."

"That's true," Santana agreed. "You suck at relationships. You're too picky, you're moody as hell, you hate that you can't control things. You're jealous. You snore."

"Shit, shut up," Quinn protested.

"You wanna know what I think?" Santana asked, turning back around and picking up her paring knife.

"Hell no," Quinn said crossly. "I've heard enough from you."

"I think," Santana continued, undeterred. "If Rachel hadn't run off so quickly that you would have shocked the hell out of both of you and said it right back to her."

"Hardly," Quinn scoffed loudly. "That's... no, just no."

Santana chuckled smugly. She knew she had touched a nerve. She also knew Quinn would be glad to let the conversation drop now, leaving her to cook in peace.

She was right. Quinn was happy to end the conversation, but mostly she was just grateful that Santana hadn't turn around to see how flush her face was.

"I'm gonna go... I got... things," she muttered and pushed away from the table, hurrying back down the hall. She could hear Santana chuckling quietly. She started humming as she went back to preparing their meal.

=^..^=

Rachel walked slowly up the ramp towards the exit. Her suitcase was cumbersome and wobbled along behind her. It made an annoying clicking sound that marked her pace. She was tired and glad to be home. Overall, the trip had been a success, she felt confident, inspired, alive, her creative force re-ignited.

Santana promised to meet her so they could discuss things again in greater detail. She wanted Rachel to absolutely certain before she made any final decisions about actually separating herself from people currently in her life, professionally speaking anyway.

Rachel crossed through the security checkpoint and into the full rush of travelers. It was crowded and she wished they had been more specific about a meeting point. Rachel didn't check any bags and was hoping to avoid the chaos of baggage claim altogether. Her eyes jumped from face to face, searching. They landed upon a very familiar one, but it wasn't Santana. Her heart fluttered wildly as she saw Quinn threading her way towards her. It made her so excited she could hardly stand still.

"Hey you," a smiling Quinn said upon reaching her.

"Hi," Rachel replied, dimples in full force.

She couldn't contain herself. She dropped her bags and walked straight into Quinn's embrace, wrapping her arms around her.

"Oh," Rachel said contentedly. "I needed this."

"You're a lovely sight," Quinn remarked, holding her tightly.

"It was nice to go home," she whispered into Quinn's shoulder. "But it's even better to be home."

"I'm glad," Quinn said."I like this."

"I've missed you so much," Rachel gushed, voice breaking slightly.

_Please don't start crying_, they both thought.

"Let's get out of here," Quinn said, lips pressed against Rachel's head. She let her go, then bent and picked up her bags.

"I can get those," Rachel fussed.

"I know," Quinn said, hefting one over her shoulder and turning the other to wheel behind her. "I know you can. Come on."

They made their way through the crowded airport quickly and out into the parking garage. Quinn led the way to her car. She unlocked it for Rachel, then made quick work of loading the bags into the trunk. When she climbed behind the wheel. Rachel was still futzing with her seat belt.

"I think it's broken..." she said, frowning.

Quinn wasted no time and leaned over, kissing her.

"Oh," Rachel chirped in surprise.

Quinn shifted, pulling her closer and sliding her lips so they were fully on Rachel's. She kissed her hungrily, needing to get it out of her system. Rachel cooed and clung to her. Finally, Quinn sucked softly on her lower lip and pulled away.

Rachel smiled smugly.

"Missed me, huh?" she teased.

"Maybe a little," Quinn admitted, pecking her lips again, moving to kiss her cheek, finally burying her face against her neck. Rachel was making quiet purring noises. The brunette felt soft and warm against her. It was so good it made Quinn groan.

"Okay, listen to me," she said, forcing herself to pull away. "I'm going to take you home so you can freshen up or whatever, then I'm supposed to hand you off to Santana."

"Okay," Rachel said, giggling. "You make me sound like a football."

"Rachel, you gotta do what San tells you," Quinn continued, her face serious Just get it out there, like ripping away a bandage. "And I'm going to tell you straight up, she's going to tell you to stay away from me. "

"No," Rachel whined, immediately scowling, grabbing onto her possessively.

"At least for a little while," Quinn continued, talking over her protests.

"I won't. She can't make me. I won't listen." Rachel said vehemently.

As though to prove it, Rachel cupped both hands on her face, showering kisses and Quinn let her.

"Listen I'm serious," she continued once Rachel stopped. "You need to do whatever San asks you to do. She's not being mean, she's got her reasons. She and I have talked a little bit, okay. She's got some plans and you're gonna be tied up in all that. You need to focus on that right now."

"I won't," she insisted, looking down, not meeting Quinn's eyes.

"Oh yes you will and you need to," Quinn explained. "Listen to what she says and do what you think is best. She's on your side, just remember that."

"But you..." Rachel stammered. "What if I need you?"

"I'm still here. I'm always on your side," Quinn assured her. "Whether I'm with you or not, I'm always your biggest fan, every minute, every day."

"Are we...are you...going to ignore me again now?" she asked, big tears shining in her eyes.

"God no," Quinn said quickly. "No,no. I'm just saying you need to work on your things for awhile and that's okay."

Rachel buried herself against Quinn's chest. She wanted to cry and was really struggling with everything Quinn was saying to her. She was tired and emotionally spent and it was all catching up to her, especially now that Quinn was telling her exactly what she didn't want to hear.

"You know, some day I'd actually like to have one of these moments someplace besides a car," Quinn said lightly.

Rachel's muffled giggles bubbled up.

"Just saying," Quinn said shrugging. She heard quiet sniffling.

"Everything's going to be alright, Rachel," Quinn said, holding her. "Do what you need to do for you right now. That's all I'm saying."

Now it was Rachel who was kissing desperately, needing reassurance. Quinn kissed her back and hoped it was enough to quell her concerns.

=^..^=

"God, that only took forever," Quinn bitched as they turned up Rachel's driveway.

Normally Rachel would muss her hair or rub her back, but she only grunted and gave a tight-lipped smile. She had been quiet most of the trip and it was making Quinn a nervous wreck.

"Go on, I'll get your stuff," Quinn told her. Rachel nodded and climbed out without a word. Quinn got her luggage out of the trunk and carried it to her front door. She was surprised to see that Rachel had waited for her. Rachel unlocked the door, walked inside, dropping her keys on the table. When she turned around she saw Quinn was still standing on the porch.

"Are you seriously not coming inside?" Rachel asked, her hand on her hip. "That's silly, even for you."

Quinn exhaled deeply, picked up Rachel's bags and carried them inside.

"Where do you want these?" she asked as Rachel walked past her to shut the door.

"Just...I guess by the stairs," Rachel shrugged.

She was tired and starting to get cranky. They both were and Rachel didn't want to waste precious time together bickering.

Quinn moved the wheeled case up against the landing, then bent slightly to drop the duffel bag next to it. When she straightened, Rachel was immediately molded against her back, arms clasped tight around her waist. She laughed wickedly.

"Now I got you," she chortled. "Mine."

"Yeah, yeah," Quinn said in a bored tone. "That's what they all say."

Rachel scoffed.

"You're being a grouch," she grumbled.

"If you're going to change, you better go ahead," Quinn told her. "Santana will be calling any minute wondering where we are."

"So?" Rachel asked.

She pressed her face against Quinn's back and whined.

"Don't care," she complained.

"I do, I promised her. Go on," Quinn prodded. "I'll entertain myself."

Rachel grunted unhappily and dropped her hold. She stomped up the steps, muttering to herself.

Quinn's phone rang.

"Yes, San," she said without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Is she back?" she asked.

"Yes, San," she repeated flatly. "She's changing. "

"Is she naked?" Santana asked, snickering. "Are you naked, too?"

"I have no idea, she's upstairs," Quinn replied, rubbing her temple. "And shut the hell up about that."

"You're still no fun I see," Santana griped.

_No doubt she is rolling her eyes_, Quinn thought.

"Try to keep the dawdling to a minimum," Santana asked. "Did you have that little talk we discussed yet?"

"Yup," Quinn said, but didn't elaborate.

"She's not a happy client I take it?" she asked.

"Nope," Quinn remarked. "Mad and crying. "So thanks for that."

"Sorry, but better coming from you than from me," Santana explained.

"Coward," Quinn said.

"Shrewd realist," Santana countered. "Will she go along with the game plans?"

"Not a clue," Quinn said. "My guess, not likely."

"Well, at least it's out on the table," Santana said. Quinn thought she was being uncharacteristically accommodating and was highly suspicious.

"You're taking this too well," she observed.

"For real, we need you on board to have any hope at all to make this stuff go smoothly, that's all." Santana explained. "Where you go, she follows. We talked about this."

They did. They talked about a lot of things. Most of them made sense – real sense and so Quinn was willing to be involved. More involved than she was happy about.

"I'll do what I can," Quinn said sincerely. "Yes, we talked, I'm cool with it. It sounds logical so I think we can get Rachel dialed in and make it work. Just keep the bullying to a minimum."

"Yes, Yoda. Anymore edicts from Quinn's Big Book Of Wisdom and General Useless Bullshit?" Santana asked.

"I'll let you know as things come up," Quinn said, smirking.

"So thrilled, " Santana sneered "Keep me updated."

"Yup," Quinn said and clicked off the call just as Rachel bounded down the steps.

She had changed her outfit and was now wearing a flowery short dress and strappy heels. She'd straightened her hair and touched up her make-up, too. Though she still looked tired, she also looked every inch the rising starlet she was.

_She looks so pretty. _

Rachel immediately went to her purse. She checked the contents, making certain she had everything she needed for the day: her keys, phone and sunglasses. She put it on the table by the front door.

Quinn stood in the center of the room, feeling like furniture, doing nothing but watching Rachel flit around.

"What else do you need?" she asked, daring to hope they were close to being ready to leave. Rachel walked up and pressed herself up against her, wrapping her arms around her neck.

"This," she said, pulling Quinn down for a kiss. "And this, and this."

"We don't have time," Quinn said firmly, yet doing nothing else to discourage her affections."You're already running late."

"I'm always late," Rachel muttered, kissing her neck."For everything."

Quinn chuckled. She suspected as much.

"Don't tell Santana that," she suggested. "At least not right away."

"Hmmm, okay. Twenty minutes," Rachel whispered. "Give me twenty minutes."

"Can't," Quinn protested weakly.

"Will," Rachel insisted.

Quinn grunted and allowed Rachel to push her several steps backwards and fell down onto the couch when she pushed. She pulled the little brunette down into her lap where Rachel curled into her, pressing their lips together. Quinn kissed her back lightly, rubbing her hands up her bare legs, kneading the sleek muscles in her calves.

"You said we'd get back to this," Rachel reminded her.

Quinn nodded slowly.

"I did, I remember," she admitted. "See, I was serious."

"I knew you were," Rachel concurred.

She leaned her forehead onto Quinn's.

"I'm so tired," she whimpered.

"I know, chickadee," Quinn said sympathetically, rubbing her back.

Rachel snuggled against her chest and grew quiet. Too quiet.

"What's wrong?" Quinn asked.

Rachel shook her head. Quinn nuzzled her neck.

"Tell me," she coaxed.

"Am I high maintenance?" she asked.

Quinn scoffed quietly.

"Very," she answered honestly.

Rachel twitched and huffed. It probably wasn't the answer she was expecting.

"That's not a bad thing," Quinn added.

"Am I exhausting?" she asked. Quinn wondered where this was coming from, but didn't ask.

"You probably can be," she admitted. "Sometimes. You do like to chew the flavor out of the things."

Rachel chuckled.

"That's a funny way of putting it," she admitted.

"It fits. You're a funny girl," Quinn said.

She went quiet again. Quinn knew she wasn't sleeping because she kept drawing lazy circles on Quinn's arm with her fingers.

"I'm selfish," Rachel confessed. "Stubborn."

"Um, stubborn, yes," Quinn agreed nodding. "Probably to a fault."

Rachel smirked and elbowed her lightly.

"But I don't think you're selfish," Quinn continued. "No more than anyone else anyone."

"Hmm," Rachel muttered.

Quinn could tell she didn't agree.

"Where are we going with this?" she asked. She felt like she knew already.

Rachel shifted position and leaned back into her heavily, collapsing. Quinn kept her anchored, secure, her arm wrapped around her waist. She smoothed a hand through her hair.

"I'm not a very...good person," Rachel said quietly, eyes cast down to the floor.

Quinn shook her heard.

"That's just not true" Quinn argued.

"I feel like it is," she insisted.

"Why do you think so?" Quinn asked, wondering if she had an answer.

Rachel shrugged limply.

"I don't know," she mumbled.

"No, you mean you won't tell me," Quinn said.

"No," she said quietly. "I...no."

Quinn knew what that meant, what all this meant. Rachel avoided talking about him with her now. Clearly there had some contact with him, probably a fight. He had to notice that Rachel was distant, changed. Didn't he wonder why? Did he even care?

Quinn exhaled deeply. She couldn't help but be a little hurt that Rachel wouldn't confide in her. She also felt guilty that Santana had betrayed a confidence. She suspected all of this was part of the same conversation – Rachel felt guilty for being with her. She pondered whether to tell her what she knew. That would risk Rachel not trusting Santana and Quinn decided it wasn't worth it. Instead, she leaned down and pressed her lips against Rachel's shoulder.

"We can stop," she said gently. "End this."

Rachel jerked around in her arms and stared at her, eyes blinking rapidly.

"No," she said, her breathing fast and shallow. "No, don't even say that."

Quinn didn't respond. Sometimes it was best to let Rachel go without too much interruption.

"Is that what you want?" she asked, her voice rising. "Is it because of what I said?"

"No, no," Quinn said quickly. "Rachel, I just wanted to give you a..."

"Way out?" Rachel said, interrupting her.

"A place to step back," Quinn countered reasonably. "If you need it."

"I don't," she snapped. "I don't need it."

"Okay," Quinn said quietly, wrapping her arms around her.

"Do you?" Rachel asked suddenly. "Am I rushing you?"

Quinn smiled and shook her head.

"No," she breathed against her shoulder again.

"Because I can do that," Rachel admitted. "I know I can. It's some more of that clutter, um, luggage. I come with a lot of luggage."

_Baggage_, she meant _baggage_. Rachel seldom misspoke. Quinn knew she was seriously flustered.

"I can carry your luggage," she assured her, clasping her hands over her tummy. She was pleased to see the corners of her mouth curl up. "I'm not worried about your luggage."

"You don't have any," Rachel scoffed, bouncing her head lightly against her shoulder nervously. "Why would you want to take on mine?"

"Because it's so pretty," Quinn teased. "It goes so nice with everything."

Rachel nudged her.

"Stop, don't make fun," she scolded.

"I'm serious," Quinn said, pulling her in closer, tucking her all into her arms. "I have stuff. We can fit all my stuff in it."

Rachel laughed softly.

"And because you come with it," she added. "Such a deal."

"Really?" Rachel asked, sounding scared and small. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely," Quinn said firmly. "I'm sure."

She barely got the words out before Rachel was hugging her. Quinn held her until she felt her start to pull away then let her go.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yeah," Rachel answered, her voice low. "A little, I think."

The lip, it was still puffed out. She had that wounded look she'd get that broke Quinn's heart.

"Rachel, you're not a bad person," Quinn said.

"I'm...I've done..." she said, stumbling to find the words.

"No, no... don't listen to... people," Quinn said, keeping their faces close. "Maybe you've done some things that aren't so nice, but right here..." Quinn touched her hand to Rachel's chest."Right here, you are not a bad person. I know it. I also know that whatever you think you've done that's making you feel all this now, you'll fix it as best you can."

Rachel took Quinn's hand in hers, toying with her fingers. She wouldn't look up at her.

"I don't know ," she said, barely a whisper. "I'm...I don't know what I am. "

Quinn kissed her head.

"I know you're scared but everything will be alright, kitten, " she said. "I know it will."

"And you'll still...you'll wait, you'll stay? " she asked timidly. "While I figure it all out."

"I'm not going anywhere," Quinn reassured her. "I'm really not. I'll be right here."

Rachel gave a little sob.

"Oh don't you even..." Quinn teased.

She tipped her back against the arm of the couch and kissed her with her eyes wide open. She dug her fingers up her ribs until she was laughing and breathless, then she kissed her some more.

"We have to go," she told her, smiling down at her.

"The Wizard awaits," Rachel said.

"Yes, she does," she agreed. "Impatiently. "

They stared at each other.

"Can I..." Rachel asked, unsure. "Can I say it? It's okay if you don't say it back. I just...can I?"

Quinn nodded.

"I love you," she said excitedly. "I just...love you."

"Hmm," Quinn replied thoughtfully, starting back her.

She growled and buried her face in her neck.

Rachel yelped and laughed.

"Mine," she said, biting her softly. Rachel squealed with delight. "Mine, mine."

She latched her mouth on to the warm, soft skin and marked her, leaving no doubt. Rachel moaned gently in her ear, fingers twisted in her hair.

"I won't give you up," she said.

"Don't," Quinn replied, finding her mouth and covering it with her own. She traced her tongue across Rachel's lower lip, then slipped it into her mouth.

Rachel squeaked, surprised. Quinn had never done this before. It made her stomach fall away and she couldn't stop shivering. Now she knew what Quinn had meant when about kissing her like she really wanted.

Everything about the way Rachel was reacting to this kiss was driving Quinn crazy - the way she was softly moaning, the ways she was shivering and pulling at her, the way she had wrapped one leg around Quinn's hip, the way she was sliding her tongue across hers. Every thing she was doing reminded Quinn why she had never kissed her this way. She never wanted to stop. She wanted to forget all about meeting Santana and just carry Rachel upstairs so she could spend the rest of the day in bed with her, drinking her in. But she couldn't do that.

"Let me call Santana," Rachel whispered against Quinn's mouth. "Tell her another time."

Quinn shook her head.

"Can't," she said, but Rachel's lips cut her off.

When Santana went to her boss and told him she wanted to leave, he revealed his long-term plan. He told her she could stay on as an agent. She could have her own clients and run their business any way she saw fit and use all of the resources as she needed. Furthermore, he told her when he retired that he planned on turning over his own client roster to her and by that time, she'd be ready to handle it on her own. He'd essentially dangled the keys to the kingdom within her reach and Rachel was posied to be her breakout client.

They couldn't blow off Santana because this deal between them needed happen. It was best for Rachel and best for Santana. Everything was riding on this meeting going well.

More so, Quinn was adamant that she wouldn't spend the day making love to Rachel until Rachel was hers to... until Rachel was hers. So for now, this was as close as she dared to get to her, as much as she dared to give. And it was probably too much.

Rachel was already starting to squirm beneath her, her hands were starting to roam. She brushed one across Quinn's breast and Quinn gently pushed it away. Rachel grunted and tried again. Quinn took the hand and pushed it up behind Rachel's head, holding it.

Rachel whined.

"Let me," she fussed, but Quinn shook her head.

"Your twenty minutes, Rachel," she said, breathing hard. "They were up ten minutes ago."

Rachel gave a frustrated groan and Quinn chuckled, bending to kiss her neck.

"I want..." she whined.

"I know, I know. Hang on," Quinn said against her ear and Rachel wrapped her arms around her neck. Quinn pushed herself up, pulling Rachel up with her.

"You need to go fix yourself a bit," she told her, pushing her mussed hair off her shoulders. Rachel reached out and wiped away a smear of lipstick off the corner of Quinn's mouth.

"I got you... smudgy," she said.

Quinn laughed and kissed her.

"Smudgy me anytime," she teased. "I like it."

"Mmm," Rachel hugged her. "Me, too. I'm gonna... go."

She sat back and swirled her finger around her face.

"Okay," she said. "I'll wait here."

Rachel scurried back upstairs. Quinn collapsed back into the couch and closed her eyes. Her phone chirped. She answered it without looking at it.

"What the fuck, Q?" Santana fumed. "Did I mention I still have a real job to take care of?"

"We're just walking out the door," she lied.

"I call bullshit," Santana countered, annoyed. "Lie better."

"She's been fixing herself." Quinn admitted. "For real, we're practically in the car."

"She was doing that almost an hour ago," Santana pointed out. "Stop with the no-sex sex and get moving. I'm gonna be there in 30 minutes and I'll wait another 15, then you're SOL."

"San," Quinn implored, but she'd already hung up. She groaned. Forty-five minutes was cutting it close at this time of day and she knew Santana was serious about her time frame.

"Rachel, let's move it," Quinn yelled up the stairs.

"Almost ready," Rachel's voice floated down the stairwell. "Five minutes."

"The Wizard is not pleased," Quinn said under her breath.

Ten minutes later, Quinn was pacing at the bottom of the stairs and chewing on her nails and obsessively checking her watch when Rachel finally came back down. Immediately she took her by the shoulders and steered her to the front door.

"Goodness," she fussed as Quinn shoved her purse at her, yanking the door open at the same time. "I was just gonna..."

Rachel was pointing at the kitchen, but Quinn crowded behind her and used her body to push her through the open door.

"We'll get one on the way," Quinn said firmly. She didn't care much for the pressure that came from being the designated wrangler.

"But I wanted..." Rachel stammered as the door closed firmly, cutting her off.

She scoffed loudly as Quinn kept buffaloing her to the car.

"Just get in the car," Quinn insisted. "I'll get you whatever it is you're fussing about, just...get... in... the...car."

She opened the door and all but had Rachel in the seat when she balked.

"Stop it," she said, putting her hands on the door frame. "Quinn, just...quit it."

Quinn grunted and threw her hands up in frustration.

"What is it, Rachel," she asked harshly. "What do you want?"

Rachel scowled at the tone.

Quinn exhaled deeply, forcing herself to calm down.

"What?" she asked again, staring at her. Rachel's jaw was set and she glared at her. "I'm...sorry. What can I get for you?"

"I wanted a drink," she said flatly.

"Fine," Quinn said, holding the car door. "Please get in and I'll go get you one."

She held our her hand for the keys. In a fit of rebellion, Rachel flung them at her. They bounced off her chest and fell to the ground. The look on Quinn's face caused her eyes to shock wide open and she gasped.

"Oh no you did not just..," Quinn said slowly.

"Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry," Rachel stammered. "Quinn, I...I..."

"Get in the car," Quinn growled, teeth gritted hard.

"I didn't mean it," she insisted, grabbing Quinn's wrist. "I'm just...you were...I just overreacted."

Quinn stood still, breathing deeply, eyes closed.

"Rachel, don't make me ask you again," she said, her voice steady and calm. "Please get in the car."

"Okay," Rachel said, nodding frantically. She ducked in the car and started fastening her seat belt.

"Thank you," Quinn said, bending down to pick up the house keys. "Now, I'm going inside."

Rachel opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn silenced her with a look. Rachel pulled her lips behind her teeth and looked scalded.

"I'm going inside." Quinn continued. "You are going to call Santana and apologize for all the delay and ask her to please wait a little longer for us. Can you do that?"

Rachel nodded.

"Fine," Quinn said tightly. "Get clear."

Rachel made sure she was fully inside the car and Quinn slammed the door. Rachel watched nervously as she strode angrily back to the house. She obediently found her phone and, with shaking hands, dialed Santana's number.

"If you're not telling me you're just pulling up, one of you bitches had better be in an ambulance," Santana snapped angrily without a pause.

"No, we're...we..." Rachel fumbled. "I'm so sorry. It's my fault, please don't be mad at Quinn."

"Berry," Santana hissed. "Is this the way you act all the time?"

"No, never," she said, her voice cracking. "I just, I'm so...tired. And now Quinn's...she's mad and I...I.. threw my keys at her."

There may have been a snicker on the other end of the phone.

"Why did you do that?" Santana asked. Her voice was muffled like she was talking through her hand.

"Well, she was, like, herding me, " Rachel protested.

"Wait, Quinn was hurting you?" Santana asked, her voice lilting in disbelief.

"No, not hurting, herding, you know, like a sheep," she tried to explain, getting frustrated. It was only a matter of time before frustrated Rachel became crying Rachel. "I don't know how to explain it."

"Never mind, munchkin. Calm your tiny self down and just breathe. Big girl panties, Berry. Quinn's a big baby, she'll get over it," Santana said carefully. "Put Bullwinkle on the phone."

"She's not here," she whimpered.

"Why not?" she snapped. "Where is she?"

_Quinn, you fucking idiot_, Santana fumed._ If you take off and leave me with a crying hot mess again Imma kick your ass. _

"She went in the house to get me something" Rachel explained. "Oh my god, she's so mad at me."

"Rachel, stop it. She'll be fine." Santana said. "She's mostly bluster. Bat your eyes at her, she'll go all gooey."

Santana had hoped for a laugh – something – all she got was silence. She heard the car door open and then slam shut.

"Here," Quinn said, handing Rachel a bottle of water. She also brought her a banana and some dry-looking cookies and fruit roll-up things she found in her cupboards. She had put everything neatly in ziploc baggie along with a napkin. "I guess you probably haven't eaten either. I was gonna make you a sandwich, but I didn't know what to make. I couldn't find your lunch box."

Rachel took the baggie and held it gently on her lap. She took deep, ragged breaths.

"Here," Quinn said taking the water out of her grasp gently. She twisted off the cap. "Drink some."

Rachel took a few sips.

"No, more," she insisted. "You'll get a headache. Santana can give anyone a headache."

"Asshole!" Santana snapped loudly.

Quinn frowned.

"Did I just hear..." she asked, looking at Rachel, confused.

"Mmmm," she said, fumbling the water, sending it dribbling down her dress. "Here."

She pushed her phone at Quinn. Quinn's eyes rolled hard and her jaw tightened as she took the phone.

"Hey," she muttered.

"I'm gonna give you a fucking headache," Santana growled. "What in the hell is wrong with you?"

"Yeah, sorry about that," she said insincerely.

"What are you doing?" Santana continued. "You tell me not to be a bully and then you turn around and do all your little rhinoceros shithead crap. You can't treat her like Puck."

"I wasn't..." Quinn protested, cutting her eyes over at Rachel who looked away quickly.

"Don't even bother denying it," Santana scolded.

"Yeah, sorry about that, too," she offered in a monotone.

"Just get her here, now," Santana said, all business. "No more stalling and stop stirring her up. Damn it, Quinn."

Santana hung up on her. Quinn leaned her head down on the steering wheel. She knew Rachel was staring at her.

"Drink your water," she said quietly. Rachel guzzled loudly so she'd know she was doing as she asked.

Quinn exhaled sharply and sat up.

"Smudge me," she said quietly, staring straight ahead.

Rachel looked confused, her brow furrowed.

"Really?" she asked.

Quinn nodded.

"Yes, really, please, Smudge me," she repeated. "But just a little. No more fixing."

Rachel smiled, unfastened her seat belt and leaned over, kissing her cheek.

Quinn shook her head.

"Better," she insisted.

Rachel giggled and kissed the corner of her mouth, sucking softly.

"More," Quinn said, turning her head and kissing her softly. She nuzzled against her face.

"I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I don't do hurry up and wait very well. I gotta work on that."

"I was...dawdling," Rachel admitted.

"No excuse," Quinn admitted. "I'm just used to being in charge.. it doesn't matter. I'll just... work on that."

Rachel smiled at her which made Quinn feel even worse.

"Are you okay?" she asked. "Do you need anything else?"

"I'm good. " she said. She placed her palm gently up against Quinn's cheek and kissed her again.  
>"I have everything I need now."<p>

"Okay," Quinn said wearing a lopsided grin. "Buckle up, we're off, I guess."

Rachel scooted back across the seat, buckled herself in and sat holding her snack pack like a treasure.

=^..^=

They made record time and Quinn was smugly pleased with herself as she turned into the upscale shopping complex.

Rachel, on the other hand, looked vaguely nauseous and would be happy to when the car finally quit moving. They had broken so many traffic laws she was amazed that they hadn't been pulled over. At more than one point she found herself hissing and digging her nails into Quinn's bicep so hard that she protested. No doubt it left a bruise and may have even broken the skin.

"You can take your foot out of the floorboard now," Quinn teased. "You don't need that imaginary brake anymore."

Rachel scoffed.

"That was worse than a New York cab ride," she lamented.

"Oh please," Quinn shrugged. "I'm an excellent driver."

"Oh sure," Rachel said, clearly unconvinced.

Quinn took her hand and squeezed it. Rachel squeezed back. Quinn drove slowly and passed the bistro where she was meeting Santana. She saw that she was sitting outside at a sidewalk table, fanning herself with a menu. Santana noticed Quinn's car and, after catching Quinn's eyes, made a point to look at her watch.

Quinn jerked her chin up at Santana, who did the same in response.

There wasn't room to park on the curb, so Quinn steered into a park space directly facing the restaurant and put the car in park.

"Okay, kitten, off you go." she said, looking at Rachel.

Rachel unbuckled her seat belt and put her hand on the car door. She paused, then scooted across the seat, falling into Quinn, fiercely hugging her.

"All those big dreams, little chickadee," she told her. "Go get 'em."

She let Rachel kiss her as much as she needed then watched as she moved out the door and crossed the sidewalk to where Santana sat waiting. She was still carrying her ziploc bag of food. She turned back once and waved. Quinn smiled and waved back to her. As soon as she reached Santana, Quinn backed her car out and drove away.

=^..^=

"Welcome home, kiddo," Santana said, reaching out to hug her. Her eyes brushed across the purple bruise on her neck that make-up didn't quite cover and she smirked.

_Great, Quinn. _

At least she was grateful there wasn't a big looping "Q" tattooed on the girl's forehead. Rachel put her baggie of snacks down on the table next to her purse and Santana smirked.

_Big bad Quinn packed her little sparrow a snack. _

She started to make a comment but bit her cheek to stop herself. She waited patiently as Rachel settled into her seat and gave the waiter her food order.

"Alright kiddo," she said, rubbing her hands together wickedly. "Let's get down to the good stuff, shall we?

Rachel smiled and nodded.

"I thought you'd never ask," she said and Santana laughed.

"Munchkin," she said, smiling. "This is going to be the start of something amazing."

=^..^=


	16. Chapter 16: A Little R & D

"So that's it," Santana said, collapsing back against her chair, nursing her drink. "What do you think?"

Rachel chewed on her lip, blinking rapidly.

Santana had been talking at her for nearly an hour, only pausing now and then to glance at her phone or sip from her drink. She very methodically explained what she had in mind for Rachel, career-wise, the steps she felt were necessary to get her to there and, lastly, what she was asking of Rachel in return. Financially, the arrangement was fair, a standard rate, perhaps even a little less than Rachel was expecting. In terms of time and hard work, however, it was extensive, at least initially. For each step Santana listed, she had a specific course of action mapped out that consisted of classes, intensive workshops, and private coaches. They focused on areas where Santana felt Rachel was either lacking or could use improvement to take her to the "next level." In Santana's words, every new or improved skill, every added experience, was another tool in her toolbox. Santana could find the opportunities, but Rachel needed to have the tools to capitalize on them and this plan was designed to give her the best tool kit possible.

All things considered, none of what Santana was asking was unreasonable. It was clear to Rachel that Santana had devoted a lot of careful thought and considerable time already and that she was willing to commit to even more on her behalf.

"It's a lot to consider," she said quietly.

"I know, Rachel," Santana acknowledged, nodding slowly, her fingers steepled in front of her. "I'm asking for a lot just on faith. Faith and promises, I realize that."

"Hmmm," Rachel mused, thoughts swirling behind her eyes.

Santana watched her closely. Rachel's body language spoke almost as often and as loudly as she did and right now it said all the things that Rachel wasn't. She was hunched over, almost hugging herself. One foot was bouncing non-stop on the rung of her chair. The corners of her carefully-sculpted brows tipped up and she was blinking non-stop. She'd been around her enough to know that this all made for a conflicted, overwrought, emotionally-fragile Rachel Berry.

"I'm not going to lie to you," Santana continued. "You're going to have to work for it. Probably harder than you've work for anything. This won't be easy and there are no guarantees."

Rachel nodded absently. She'd starting rocking slightly and making tiny, frantic sounds.

_Uh uhhhh. Hell to the nah. _

Santana knew this was serious backsliding – the more Rachel thought about it, the more she was unraveling. She need to rein her in and make her focus. She couldn't let her fly apart at the seams or this would be time wasted. She immediately scooted her chair closer and leaned in so she was in Rachel's personal space.

"Talk to Quinn," she urged.

At the mention of the name Rachel's head came up, her brow furrowed.

_Cha-ching! _

"Wha..hmm I, I don't know," Rachel stammered. "She says she's not... she doesn't want to...be involved."

Santana scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I know what she says," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "For real, Q has waffled all over about this shit. You need a map to keep track of her."

Rachel's mouth quirked slightly.

"Listen, you can trust me when I tell you that like it or not, she's involved." Santana continued. "My guess is she won't tell you what to do, but she will help you. At the very least, she'll talk you through all the possibilities so you can find what you really want."

Rachel looked skeptical. She tilted her head and regarded Santana openly, her wide-eyed gaze forcing her to shift uncomfortably under its scrutiny.

"You'll always be honest with me?" she asked.

Santana laughed heartily. She couldn't stop herself.

"Brutally," she admitted. "General rule: Don't ask me anything unless you really want to know. The answer might not be pretty, but it will always be honest."

She watched as Rachel processed that response, her face a not-so-subtle mirror of her thoughts. She was clearly debating something.

"Say it," Santana urged. "This isn't the time to be a wallflower."

Rachel nodded.

"Did you have anything to do with Finn suddenly getting that job?" Rachel asked pointedly.

Santana's eyebrows crawled up. She wasn't expecting that question and her admiration for Rachel amped up considerably.

"Indirectly," she admitted with a smirk. "Opportunities presented themselves and favors exchanged hands."

Rachel smiled. She was quite please with herself for figuring it out.

"Does Quinn know about it?" she probed, pressing her newly-found luck.

"No," Santana asserted quickly. "I'd prefer that it stay that way, but that's up to you."

"Really, why?" Rachel asked.

"Quinn's funny about that stuff like that," she answered truthfully. "Where I see it as a helpful nudge, she might call it self-serving meddling."

"And it wasn't?" Rachel asked, once again smirking smugly.

"Hmph. Not...entirely," Santana remarked slowly. She didn't care for the sudden power shift in the conversation. "Hey, I see it as a win-win for everyone, even old Finn. No harm, no foul, no problem, but, like I said, that's my take on it. Quinn, probably not so generous."

"So, are you keeping tabs on him then?" Rachel asked warily, shifting the focus. She wanted to know, but wasn't certain she wanted to hear the details.

"I'm not getting daily updates or anything if that's what you mean," Santana said flatly. "Seriously, Rachel, I'm not that connected to the situation. It was more a matter of getting his name on a very short list and letting the chips fall from there."

"I see," Rachel muttered.

"To be honest, I'm surprised it worked out," Santana admitted with a shrug.

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked, a puzzled look on her face.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I gotta tell you that your...," Santana paused, She realized the corner she'd painted herself into and now fumbled for the right phrase. "You know what, never mind. It worked out, that's all we need to say about it."

Rachel frowned and shifted in her seat.

"No, seriously," she said firmly. "What were you going to say? The truth, remember."

Santana drew a long breath, groaned quietly and rolled her eyes.

"Let's just say it wasn't an easy sell," she said diplomatically, pursing her lips, hoping it would suffice.

"I don't understand," Rachel replied, scrunching her face up.

Santana could almost hear Quinn chuckling and saying, "San, that mouth of yours always gets us in trouble. You always go one comment too far for your own good."

"Ah hell, Rachel, fine. You asked, so...fine! Truth is your...Finn is a bit of a dolt, okay?," she said finally, her tone clipped. "It took me a handful of promises and no small amount of fast talking to even get him up for consideration. I was stunned when he actually got the gig. Quite frankly I suspect Daddy may have still stepped in after all that."

Rachel nodded mutely. She sank back down in her chair. It made so much more sense now.

"Did you want me to be keeping tabs on him?" Santana asked, hoping to switch gears and ease the tension.

Rachel shook her head tightly.

"Is that because you don't care what he's doing ?" Santana asked.

_Or because you're afraid to find out? _

Santana was proud of herself for managing to squash down the last comment. She wasn't surprised when Rachel didn't answer. She could see the girl's chest was heaving faster and was afraid she might start crying.

"Where do we go from here?" she asked quietly, ignoring the question.

"The ball is in your court, Rachel. It's all up to you now." Santana said, her dark eyes boring into Rachel's. "You can tell me your decision when you're ready."

Rachel nodded and dropped her gazed down to her hands which were nervously twisting the hem of her dress. Santana used the opportunity to check her phone, briefly scanning messages and typing quick replies. She looked up and found Rachel still intently contemplating the length of her own hemline.

"What is it?" Santana asked, placing a hand on her forearm. "Out with it."

"Quinn said you would tell me to... to stay away from her," Rachel confessed. "Is that true?"

_Goddamn it, Quinn. _

"Erm, I was getting around to that subject," Santana said slowly, choosing her words cautiously. "Yes and no."

"I won't," Rachel said defiantly, true to her words. " I won't stay away from her. You can't make me either."

Santana bit her lip for a moment, letting Rachel stew in her righteous indignation.

"It's not a matter of 'making you,' Rachel," Santana explained tactfully. "It's a matter of being practical, of being committed, and focused. But yes, Rachel, at least for a while, it probably means not seeing so much of Quinn."

Rachel scoffed and tossed her head. Her lips melded into a thin, angry line.

"I don't...agree," she said tightly. "I don't think that's necessary."

This is good, Santana thought to herself. She had no doubt Rachel behaved this way on set when confronted with something she didn't like or want to hear. Better learn to deal with her sulking and tantrums now than when something really important crops up.

Santana just shrugged.

"It's up to you," she told her evenly. "You're right. You're an adult and no one can make you do anything. But I think when you really look at the schedule and everything that's involved with trying to make this work, I think you'll come to the realization that it's going to be a struggle just to keep up. It's going to mean making some real sacrifices."

"Quinn isn't some...option," Rachel snapped, scowling. "She's not a...a...a hobby I can just drop."

"Of course she isn't," Santana agreed. "But Quinn is a realist. I've talked to her about this."

Rachel narrowed her eyes at that revelation.

"Don't get all sideways. You know Quinn and I have talked about some things. It wasn't some big conspiracy," Santana said. "Bottom line: Quinn knows that she's going to need to give you some space for a minute."

"I don't want space," Rachel said, pouting. "I don't want...that. I want..."

"Everything," Santana interrupted. "You want everything. You're trying to have it all."

"So?" Rachel retorted, bristling angrily, glaring at her. "Why can't I?"

"You said you wanted honesty," Santana reminded her calmly. "Well, here's some hard truth for you. You're trying really hard to hold on to everything and that's a good way to end up with nothing."

She paused giving Rachel a moment to reply. Rachel's eyes just shifted away and she stayed defiantly silent.

"You have to pick your battles, Rachel," she continued, her voice softer. "You need to decide what you really want and commit, put everything you've got into it. If you don't, you're just...you're just treading rising water."

Rachel exhaled sharply. Santana squeezed her forearm.

"We aren't talking about work anymore, are we?" she asked softly.

"We're talking about life, Rachel. We're talking about everything," Santana said honestly. "All across the board. It's all connected. You can't hold on to things that don't fit anymore. Things you've outgrown. Things that are weighing you down and holding you back. You have to make choices. Some choices are harder than others. Some choices hurt."

"If I have to...choose, then I choose her," she said softly. "Over everything else."

"Rachel..." Santana whispered, shaking her head.

"I'll do whatever it takes," Rachel insisted. "I mean it, Santana. I can't lose her."

"You've got her, " Santana reassured her. "But she won't let you sacrifice everything else, Rachel. She just won't. She'll tell you the same thing herself. Talk to her. "

Rachel nodded.

"Besides, not that you would notice or anything," Santana said, moving away from her. "This isn't all just about you, you know. In case you have missed it, I'm ready to step out onto the ledge and jump here, too. Once we ring this bell, Rachel, we can't go back. It's either fly or fall."

Rachel nodded, her face anxious.

"I know, I know," she said, reaching for Santana's hand. "I know what you're risking. I do. I know I'm making this so much more...it's such a mess, really. I'm sorry, I just...I just can't."

Santana waved her off quickly before she could work herself into tears.

"Stop, stop, none of that... just stop," she said, frowning. "Don't work yourself into a little sparrow hissy fit."

"Chickadee," Rachel corrected gently.

"Whatever," Santana scoffed loudly. "Whatever small annoying stupid bird...god, Quinn's lame-ass pet name crap. Just, whatever."

Santana grunted in frustration and Rachel laughed softly.

"God, I'm done anyway," she added, fussing with her purse. "I need to go back and finish work for people who are actually paying me. So take your sad little snack pack and go off somewhere and think about all of this, okay?"

Rachel nodded.

"And drag that cranky blonde into it even if you have to take her kicking and screaming, alright?" Santana insisted. "Promise me."

Rachel smiled.

"Okay," she pledged.

"I mean it, Rachel," Santana scolded, jabbing her finger at her.

"Fine," Rachel said, nodding. "I hear you."

Rachel smiled broadly which seemed to irritate Santana even further.

"What?" she snapped, squinting at her suspiciously.

"Nothing," Rachel said, holding up her hands in submission.

"For real, we're done here," she said, standing up. She tossed several bills down on the check, snapped off the receipt and quickly made notes on it. "Fly away with your little hummingberry self."

Rachel got up and moved immediately to hug Santana, who fussed and flailed, trying to discourage her.

"No, no, no, we're not gonna get started off with all that _hug it out_ stuff," she grunted. "Awe, shit."

Rachel ignored her and hugged her tightly.

"Thank you," she said firmly, making sure Santana listened to her. "For being honest with me."

"Yeah, well," Santana said, shrugging and patting Rachel's back awkwardly. "You'll grow to hate it."

"And for believing in me," she continued.

Santana rolled her eyes dramatically.

"Okay, yeah, yeah, fine. We're making a scene," she said in a bored monotone. "For reals, people are starting to stare. This is how rumors get started."

Rachel released her and stepped back. Santana made a big point of fussing with her clothes, straightening and smoothing them with both hands.

"Hold up now. You can't be doing that, Rachel," she said. "I've got a reputation to uphold."

"Right," Rachel agreed, grinning. "Sorry."

"I'm serious," Santana added. "I'm not playing with you."

"I know," Rachel said, nodding. "I understand."

"Um, you don't sound very sorry, missy." Santana observed. "I'm just saying."

They started away from their table.

"Get your damn birdseed," Santana reminded her and waited while Rachel retrieved her Ziploc bag. "You know what, just thrown that crap away. It's not like you're going to eat that. "

She pointed at a nearby trash can. Rachel only clutched the bag tighter.

"Are you taking me home?" she asked tentatively.

Santana shook her head.

"Sorry girlie, I gotta get back to the grind," she admitted.

Rachel looked anxious, her hands twisting the plastic. She hadn't thought about this.

"Maybe she'll take pity on you," Santana remarked, jerking her chin up.

Rachel turned and saw Quinn working through the crowded sidewalk towards them. Santana couldn't help but laugh when she noticed Rachel actually skip at the sight of her.

"God, go on," Santana hissed. "Get out of here. My babysitting is done for the day."

Rachel reached out and squeezed Santana's hand, then she rushed to meet Quinn. Quinn saw her coming and stopped, waiting. She stumbled back as Rachel threw her arms around her excitedly.

"Hey, wow," she said, laughing and hugging her.

Over Rachel's shoulder, she locked eyes with Santana. Santana raised her hands in an "I dunno" gesture. Quinn nodded and mouthed, "Thank you." Shaking her head, Santana slipped on her sunglasses and immediately pulled her phone to her ear as she crossed the lot to her car.

"I didn't know you were coming back," Rachel gushed, stepping back from Quinn.

"Yeah, I'm just sneaky like that," Quinn teased, kissing her head softly. "Ready to go?"

Rachel nodded happily.

"Come on," she said, taking her hand. "Let's roll."

She reached for Rachel's hand.

"Wha...wait, give me this," she said, pulling the Ziplock away from her.

"No," Rachel whined. "I was...saving that."

Quinn scoffed.

"Rachel, sometimes," she said, tossing it in a neon yellow trash can. "Stop pouting.

She took her hand again and they walked across the parking lot to Quinn's car. Rachel waited while Quinn unlocked the passenger door.

"Are you taking me home?" Rachel asked, already biting her lip.

"No," Quinn said quickly, opening the door for her. "I mean not right away, not unless you want to go home. Do you?"

Rachel shook her head briskly.

"Well, I have to go back to the office for a minute," she explained. "Is that okay?"

"Uh huh," Rachel insisted, grinning broadly. "Sure, it's fine."

She rose up and pecked Quinn impishly on the lips, then ducked inside the car before she could be scolded. Quinn chuckled and closed the door behind her.

Rachel started fiddling with the radio the minute the car started. Finding a song she liked, she sat back and sang along, surfing her arm out the car window and letting the breeze whip her hair back off her face. Every so often she'd glance over at Quinn, sing louder and grin.

"Somebody's in a good mood," Quinn quipped.

Rachel shrugged.

"It's been a good day," she said, punching buttons on the radio again.

"I see," Quinn remarked. "Happy to hear it."

She couldn't help but wonder about Rachel's odd behavior. Normally she would be chirping up a storm and clinging to her, but now she was leaning out the window and singing at the top of her lungs. Quinn suspected she was trying to keep herself distracted so she wouldn't have to deal with everything. The song changed and Rachel started singing again, waving at anyone who glanced in her direction. She finally made Quinn nervous enough that she tugged her back inside the car.

"Settle down. Didn't your folks ever tell you horror stories about keeping your hands inside a moving vehicle?" she asked.

Rachel scooted over and snuggled against her.

"Uh uh," she said, kissing her under the jaw. "Tell me some."

Quinn grunted.

"Nope," she said, shaking her head. "Too gruesome. It'll give you nightmares."

"So sleep with me and keep me safe," she suggested.

Quinn laughed.

"Funny girl," she remarked.

Rachel sifted her fingers through the hair at the nape of Quinn's neck because she knew she liked it. Quinn cleared her throat and shifted around in her seat confirming Rachel's theory.

"Aren't you proud of me?" Rachel inquired randomly.

"For?" Quinn asked, raising her brows, perplexed.

"I haven't once asked what we're doing," she explained.

"True," Quinn noted pursing her lips. "Is that because you don't care or because you know I won't tell you?"

Rachel tipped her head back on the seat and made a big production of thinking about it,

"Both," she announced after careful deliberation.

Quinn turned into the office parking lot and pulled around to the back lot. She parked beside Noah's pick up and turned the car off. When Rachel reached to unbuckle her seat belt Quinn stopped her.

"Stay here," she told her. "I'll only be a minute."

She partially opened the door, then paused, leaned back, and pressed her lips against Rachel's, holding them there for a long time before breaking away.

"I'm always proud of you," she said and added another firm peck.

Rachel ducked her head happily and watched as Quinn unlocked the office door and disappeared inside. She came back out a few minutes later carrying a duffel bag and placed it in the back of Noah's truck then went back inside. Next she came out carrying a large box and loaded it in the truck as well. She went in again and returned with a pet carrier which she placed carefully inside the truck cab. She checked the lock on the office door, then came back and sat down inside her car with Rachel. Instead of starting it, she just rolled up the windows.

"Come on, chickadee," she instructed. "We're changing rides."

Rachel scrunched up her face in confusion. It was right on the tip of her tongue to say "why," but she bit it back. Without a comment, she collected her things, climbed out and closed the door.

"It's gonna be a little crowded for a minute," Quinn continued. "You're gonna have share your seat. Is that okay?"

"I guess," Rachel said, chewing on her thumb. Quinn hid a grin. She could see that the suspense was making Rachel slightly manic. She reached out and took her hand away from her mouth and used it to pull her closer. The little brunette was coiled up like a spring, tense, anxious, almost buzzing.

"Relax," Quinn coaxed, slipping her arms around Rachel's waist.

Rachel snaked her arms around Quinn, gripping her shoulders painfully.

"What's up?" Quinn asked gently, nuzzling against her with her chin.

Rachel sighed hard.

"I'm scared," she confessed softly.

"I know," Quinn said, hugging her tightly. "I figured it was something like that."

'It's a lot to think about," Rachel fretted, her brow knitted deeply. "What... what if I do the wrong thing?"

Quinn rested her chin on the top of Rachel's head.

"You won't, " Quinn assured her. "I know you'll make the right choice."

"But you don't know that, Quinn. You're just saying that. This is so...huge," she blurted out, the words flying forth in a stumbling rush. "This changes everything, everything."

"It does," Quinn agreed.

Rachel's foot started bouncing and she was plucking on Quinn's shirt.

I know you don't want to...but...I need...," she said haltingly.

Rachel whined and rocked nervously. Quinn could almost hear the buzzing building up in her head.

"Don't," Quinn interrupted deliberately, holding her still and stroking her back. "Be still."

"Will you help me?" she pleaded.

"Of course, " Quinn answered, her voice soothing. "Of course I will."

All the motion and noise abruptly stopped.

"Oh," Rachel squeaked, surprised.

She buried her face against Quinn's chest and she could feel the tension melting away beneath her fingers. Crisis averted.

"Stop worrying," Quinn scolded lightly. "Trust me, this is a good thing."

"What if...what if I can't..." Rachel muttered, but Quinn shushed her.

"Shhhh," Quinn insisted. "Stop it."

Rachel grunted at the rebuke.

"Where are we going," Rachel asked pointedly, pouting.

Quinn exhaled a laugh.

"I have to drop off something at a client's, " she told her. "The rest is a secret."

"Like a surprise?" Rachel pressed, her curiosity tweaked.

"Exactly, " Quinn confirmed, grinning. "Exactly like a surprise."

This was rewarded with a giggle.

"Better?" Quinn asked.

"Better," Rachel agreed.

Quinn tipped her face up and kissed her, sucking softly against her mouth, rubbing her thumb across her hot cheek.

"Everything's going to be fine," she said, pulling back. "I know these things."

"Because you're the cat's meow, right?" Rachel asked, smiling.

"I am," Quinn agreed, slow blinking at her. "Meow, pajamas, the whole feline nine yards. Oh hey, come here."

She pulled Rachel by the hand toward the truck, reaching inside for the pet carrier. She turned it around so Rachel could see inside.

"These guys are gonna ride on your lap," she explained. "If that's okay. It's too hot to leave them in the the bed and I just don't want to anyway. Too scary for little guys."

Two little whiskered faces peered out at them.

"Kitties," Rachel said, moving closer.

"Nope," Quinn said. "Look again."

"Ohhhh, what are those?" Rachel cooed, trying to wiggle her fingers between the slats in the carrier.

"Rachel," Quinn cautioned, coming up behind her. "Careful, one of them bites. I forget which one."

She held up a bandaged finger for Rachel to see. Rachel frowned and pulled her hand away.

"They're ferrets," Quinn continued, answering her question. "That's Buzz and the blonde one is Stitch."

"Why do you have them?" Rachel asked, poking at them with a single wary finger. Quinn looped her arms around her waist and kissed her cheek. Rachel leaned back against her.

"They escaped when their owners moved out of their house a few weeks ago," she told her. "We've been trying to catch them ever since. There's a third one still missing."

"Oh no, that's so sad," Rachel said. "You'll be able to find it, won't you?"

Quinn shrugged.

"I hope so," she admitted. "But in the meantime, they'll be glad to see these two naughty boys."

The ferrets trilled and warbled at them in unison.

"Listen," Rachel chirped.

"They do that all the time," Quinn acknowledged. "They talk back and forth to each other."

"What's the other one's name?" she asked randomly.

"Um, Nemo," Quinn said, smirking.

Rachel's eyes narrowed.

"So that means you're still..." she said slowly.

"Finding Nemo," Quinn finished her sentence. "Yes, yes, ha, ha, ha. Brittany has been making that joke all day. Seriously, ALL day."

Rachel chuckled happily. Stitch pushing his paws out through the bars and grabbed Rachel's index finger. She jumped, shrieked, then laughed loudly at herself. Quinn dug her fingers quickly into Rachel's ribs and she shrieked again and twisted out of Quinn's reach.

"Quinn,'' she sputtered, slapping at her. Quinn fended her off easily, laughing. "That was...not...funny."

"Oh yes it was," she disagreed, reaching for her.

Rachel smacked at her and scowled.

"Childish," she fretted.

"Funny," Quinn insisted, grabbing her around the waist and blowing raspberries against her neck as she tried to squirm away.

The ferrets chittered excitedly and run around in circles in their cage.

"See, they think so, too," Quinn noted.

"Stop, stop," Rachel gasped out, half serious, half laughing. She pushed Quinn, moving her back up against her car until she stood pinned, smiling down at her, her eyes bright green. "Be nice."

Quinn bent slowly and kissed her.

"Better?" she asked.

"Mmm, better," Rachel concurred, stroking her face.

Quinn grazed her cheek against Rachel's and kissed her neck. Rachel wound her fingers in Quinn's hair.

"Santana said..." Rachel started.

"Wait," Quinn pulled away and stopped her. "We'll get to all that, but later, okay?"

Rachel stared at her.

"I promise, we'll get to that, all of it," Quinn repeated. "Right now, let's just...play, okay?"

"Okay," Rachel agreed, tugging at her hair. "Just play."

"Mmm," Quinn hummed, burying her face into Rachel's neck and growling. "Plaaayyy."

When Rachel laughed, Quinn scooped her up and carried her back to the truck. She held the pet carrier while Rachel got inside, then put it down on her lap.

"What if they bite me?" she asked.

"They won't," Quin assured her. "But I might."

She nipped her shoulder gently and Rachel ducked her head, giggling. Quinn grinned and closed the door. By the time she got inside, Rachel was already talking to the ferrets and trying to pet them again.

"Rachel," Quinn warned quietly. "Don't cry to me if they nip you."

"They're worried about Nemo," she said, apparently channeling Brittany, who had been talking "for" the ferrets since they arrived.

"Did they tell you that?" Quinn asked with a smirk as she backed the truck out.

"Don't make fun," she fussed. "I can tell. They're sad."

"Well maybe you can get them to tell you where the little rat is hiding," Quinn muttered under her breath.

Rachel cut her eyes over at her.

"They can hear you," she scolded.

Quinn rolled her eyes.

"And see you," Rachel added.

Quinn scoffed.

"Fine, I'll just sit here and drive," she teased. "While you talk to your friends."

Rachel started to scoot over closer.

"No, no," Quinn said dramatically, holding up a hand. "Just stay over there on your side of the car. Talk amongst yourselves. I'll just drive."

"Big baby," Rachel said, peering into the crate. "Isn't she? Yes, she is. Where is he? Where's Nemo? Tell Quinn where Nemo is."

Quinn watched her baby-talk to the ferrets, then pulled her eyes up and realized she was veering into the other lane and turned the wheel sharply.

Rachel jerked her head up and looked around.

"Sorry," Quinn offered mildly. "Pretty girl alert."

Rachel glared at her. Quinn reached over ran her fingers down the back of her arm. Rachel grabbed her hand and held it loosely.

Following the instructions from her client, Quinn turned into an upscale neighborhood and put Rachel in charge of locating house numbers.

"There, that one," Rachel said, tapping on her window. "That house with the gates."

"FYI, they all have gates," Quinn protested.

"The pretty gates," Rachel added and Quinn grunted.

"We need to work on your navigation skills," Quinn teased, as she turned into the driveway. She rolled down her window as she pulled up to the call box, pressed the button and waited.

There was an audible crackling.

"Hello," Quinn said lightly.

"Quinn?" an accented voice answered.

"Marisol?" Quinn replied, frowning.

Rachel tapped her arm and pointed up at the camera mounted on the top of the gate. Quinn nodded and flashed a smile.

"Hey," she said, waving. "Sorry to barge in, but I have something for your boys."

"Oh my gosh," the woman said. "Really? They'll be over the moon. Wait, let me buzz you in. Yes, yes, how do you make this work? "

"Okay, but Marisol, listen," Quinn said quickly. "We're still missing one."

"This is so frustrating," she said quietly. "What, still one missing, you said? Oh Quinn, so sad. Ah, this, this I think..."

There was a deep sigh followed by a sharp click, then a hiss as the heavy metal gates swung inward.

"Did it work?" she asked.

"Yup, that's the one," Quinn told her.

"Well, it is still good, even with only two," Marisol said optimistically. "Better a little happy, yes?"

Quinn waited until the gates stopped then drove slowly up the curved, sloping driveway. She stopped short of the garage, put the truck in park and got out. Before she reached the passenger door, the front door to the house opened and a slender, well-dressed woman came down the walk towards them.

"Quinn, hello," she said, reaching her hand out to Quinn.

Quinn grabbed it and squeezed.

"Hey," she said, allowing the woman to pull her into a gentle hug.

"The kids are going to be so happy," Marisol told her. "I don't have to tell you that though, do I?"

Quinn shook her head.

"So, who is still missing?" she asked softly.

"Nemo," Quinn answered.

She grimaced and put a hand to her heart.

"Ah, Nemo, no. Eduardo will be heartbroken," she said, her eyes soft and sad.

"We're still trying," Quinn reassured her. "I really think we're going to find him, especially now. I think they would have all stayed together."

The woman nodded and clutched her hand to her throat lightly.

"I hope, I hope," she agreed. "Well, at least some good news, yes? Then maybe some more later."

"Definitely," Quinn said brightly. "This part is good news."

She opened the passenger door and Rachel handed her the carrier. Marisol peered inside, talking animatedly in Spanish to the ferrets, who trilled back to her happily.

"You'll come inside, yes?" Marisol asked. "The boys, they'll be so happy. Let them thank you, okay?"

"Well," Quinn said hesitantly, glancing to Rachel.

"It's okay, "Rachel said, nodding. "Go ahead."

"No, your friend," Marisol added. "She comes, too. I'm Marisol del Garza, hello."

"Marisol, this is my friend, Rachel," Quinn said, recovering her manners. "Rachel Berry."

"Rachel, you'll come with us," Marisol insisted. "It will be a happy moment. Please come inside, yes?"

Rachel looked at Quinn and nodded, climbing out of the truck. Quinn closed the door behind her.

"Sure," Quinn agreed. "Let's go surprise them."

"Great, yeah? A happy surprise," Marisol said, smiling broadly. "Come, come, welcome. It's messy, but so is life, eh?"

She gestured for them to walk ahead of her. Quinn waited for Rachel, then followed with the carrier and Marisol brought up the rear.

It was nearly an hour later when they came back out to the truck. Quinn settled behind the wheel and noticed that Rachel was still grinning from ear-to-ear.

"That was so amazing," she commented when she noticed Quinn staring at her. "Everyone was so sweet and they were so happy."

"Yup," Quinn said, nodding. "Happy kids, happy mom, happy weasels, too."

"Poor little Eduardo though," she said with a dramatic sigh. "But you made it...the way you sat on the floor and held him and just talked with him, that was...so perfect. It was perfect, Quinn."

"Kind of like how I talk to you," Quinn teased. "Yes, yes?"

Rachel puffed out her lip. Quinn leaned across the seat and mugged at her until Rachel relented and kissed her.

"Now that was perfect," Quinn said, then she turned the key and started back down the driveway. She waited while the gates swung open and pulled through them.

"Now what?" Rachel asked.

Quinn just grinned.

"No, tell me," Rachel fussed.

"Well, I'm taking you to dinner," Quinn confessed. "But first I want to show you something."

Quinn drove for awhile and then steered into another upscale neighborhood, this one even more affluent than the last. Rachel watched quietly as the luxurious homes rolled past. She could tell they were winding higher up into the gentle hills.

"What if we get stopped?" Rachel asked, squeezing Quinn's hand.

"I've got an ace in my pocket," Quinn responded cryptically. "It'll be okay."

They slowed and drove past a huge sprawling estate that sat well back off the road.

"Who lives here, do you know who lives here?" Rachel asked, looking expectantly at Quinn.

"I do. Well I know who they are," she explained, bringing the truck to a stop. "But I don't know them know them. Ya know what I mean?"

Rachel snickered.

"More importantly," Quinn continued. "You know who lives here."

"I do?" Rachel asked, her eyes sweeping the majestic property.

"Uh uh," Quinn said, leaning closer to her. "You sing her music every day."

Quinn started softly humming "Don't Rain on My Parade."

Rachel gasped loudly and grabbed her arm.

"Barbra," she whispered reverently. "This is where Barbra lives?"

"So my sources tell me," Quinn confirmed, watching Rachel with amusement.

"Is she...home?" she asked in a whisper.

"I have no idea," Quinn admitted. "Maybe."

"Barbra," Rachel said, leaning down against the window sill, eyes wide. "This is so... Barbra."

Quinn just leaned back against the door and watched Rachel patiently. She also kept a watchful eye on traffic. She wasn't lying when she said she had an ace in her pocket, but she also didn't want to press her luck very far. It was pretty obvious they were gawking. When she noticed the same vehicle drive past them slowly twice she decided their star tour needed to wind to a close.

"Wave goodbye to Barbra," she told Rachel calmly, slipping the truck into gear.

"Barbra," Rachel repeated, still sounding dazed.

Quinn chuckled when she noticed her waggle her fingers slightly as the truck pulled smoothly away.

Rachel turned and stared at her, beaming.

"That was the best thing ever," she said sincerely. "Ever."

"Well I afraid that everything else will pale in comparison then," Quinn observed. "But I wanted to do that while it was still daylight. I wasn't sure if I could find it after dark."

Quinn watched the rear view mirror closely and breathed a slight sigh of relief when the car behind them turned off down a side street. She wound her way back down out of the sprawling hills to the main road. They drove a little further and turned into another enclave of luxurious homes.

With the window down, they could hear the surf even from the car.

"Now what are we doing?" Rachel asked, finally unable to restrain herself.

"I thought we'd have some dinner," Quinn answered with a shrug. "Unless you're not hungry."

"I'm hungry," she replied eagerly.

Despite her protests the contrary, Quinn had soon learned that Rachel was always hungry.

Quinn continued down the tree-lined lane and came to what was essentially a sandy turn-around on a small rise overlooking the ocean.

"Oh," Rachel said, spying the guard gate. She started chewing on her lip, but Quinn didn't seem remotely phased.

"Aces," Quinn reassured her. "Pocket aces."

Quinn pulled the truck into the nearly empty parking lot, backed it up so the bed faced the ocean and turned it off. She turned and face Rachel, who was still wide-eyed.

"Welcome to the Malibu Riviera," she said with a smirk. She held up a laminated resident ID card so Rachel could see it. She also pulled a chain around her neck and revealed a key dangling from the end. "Courtesy of Santana Lopez."

"Santana lives here?" Rachel asked, clearly impressed.

Quinn shook her head.

"Uh, not quite yet," she explained with a smile. "But her boss does and he needs her to have access. It's a huge perk and she's pretty generous with it. Wait here a minute."

Quinn climbed out and rummaged through the duffel bag in the bed of the truck. She brought back a handful of clothes.

"I think this might be more comfortable where we're going," she told Rachel, placing them next to her on the seat. "It's pretty secluded here. I think you can change in the cab."

Quinn put a window shade up inside the windshield. She got out came around to Rachel's door. She opened a beach towel and draped over the window, pushing the door nearly closed to hold it in place. She came back to her door and did the same, making for a little more privacy.

"I'll be outside whenever you're ready," Quinn added and climbed out before Rachel could comment.

Quinn was standing by the tailgate when Rachel came up behind and ran her hands across her back.

"Does this look okay?" Rachel asked.

Quinn looked at Rachel in her purple tank shop and hot pink board shorts.

"I think it looks great," Quinn gushed. "But I admit it was slim pickings. Those are Santana's. She left them at the house. Brittany's things are too big for you."

Rachel moved up against her and raised up on her toes. She put her hands on Quinn's stomach to keep her balance.

"It's perfect," she said, batting her eyes. "You're perfect."

Quinn hummed and kissed her.

"Ready to beach it up a little bit?" Quinn asked, easing away slightly.

"We could just stay here," Rachel suggested as her fingers swirled across Quinn's shirt front.

It was precisely what Quinn wanted to avoid.

"Puck will be disappointed," Quinn said. "He made us a picnic dinner."

Quinn's eyes glanced over at a basket in the bed of the truck.

"Where did you get that?" Rachel asked, surprised.

"It was in that cooler," Quinn told her, nodding her chin at the white box cooler. "Surprise."

Rachel bit her lip and her eyes danced.

Quinn kissed her neck, breathing her in.

"Come on," she said directly into her ear. "Let's go eat."

She handed Rachel a few lighter things to carry, then took the food and duffel bag herself. Everything else she locked in the cab of the truck. At the sight of the guarded beach gate, Rachel's step faltered and she reached for Quinn's arm.

"It's okay," Quinn said calmly.

"Hey Jake," Quinn said to the middle-aged man watching the gate. "How's the surf?"

He smiled and gave her a thumbs down.

"Where's your entourage?" he teased.

"They couldn't make bail," Quinn said without pause.

"Figures," he replied. "Bunch of hooligans."

She shrugged and held up her resident key. He nodded and didn't ever bother to ask for her card before nonchalantly flagging them on through.

"Save me a sandwich," he called after them while Quinn unlocked the gate.

"You know it," she replied. "Maybe two."

Quinn pulled the gate closed behind them.

"Careful," she said to Rachel. "In fact, let me go ahead."

She moved around Rachel and started down the steps to the beach letting Rachel follow behind her. Once they reached the sand, Quinn found a spot well back beyond the tide line and spread out a large beach towel.

"Here, I'll help," Rachel insisted. Quinn suspected she was going too slow and Rachel just couldn't wait to see what was inside any longer. Kneeling on the towel, she opened the basket and starting unpacking its contents, "oohing" and "ahhing" with each item. She spread it all and Quinn settled down next to her so they could eat.

The beach wasn't crowded with just a few people walking in the tide line and a few surfers taking advantage of the meager surf.

"So what's the deal here?" Rachel asked, chewing slowly. She covered her mouth when she spoke. "Do these people live here?"

"Maybe," Quinn said, gazing up and down the sand. "You can get here from a other few public access places. It's a long walk though. Usually there are a lot more surfers. That can be kind of a pain sometimes. We never surf so they don't hassle us too much. Puck butts heads with them sometimes. Technically, non-residents have to stay on the wet sand."

"Mmm, this is really good," Rachel said, picking up the second half of her grilled eggplant sandwich. She pulled it apart and pushed the ingredients into an orderly stack. "Noah's good at making sandwiches."

"Yes, he's great," Quinn agreed. "I told him to keep your stuff on the light side. That made him kind of nervous."

"It's awesome," she mumbled, her cheeks puffed out. "I like the sweet potato chips and the fruit salad. There's olives, too."

Rachel pushed the container towards Quinn, who made a face.

"No, you help yourself," she said. "Those are all yours."

"What do you have?" Rachel asked, pulling Quinn's hand away from her mouth so she could look at her sandwich and nearly spilling it in the sand in the process. "What's that?

"A BLT," she told her.

"It doesn't look like one," Rachel said, her fingers pinching at the edges of the sandwich for a taste.

"I think he put onion on it, too," Quinn added.

"Hmmm," Rachel mused. "That's not it.

"And he used fried greed tomatoes." Quinn mumbled under her breath.

"What?" Rachel said, looking aghast. "Why?"

"Because they're good," Quinn protested. "With horseradish mayo."

"I wanna bite," Rachel insisted, scooting forward on her butt to get closer. "Lemme taste it."

"It's spicy," Quinn said warily. "You're not gonna like it."

"I like spicy," Rachel stated emphatically. "Yes, bite."

She opened her mouth and Quinn relented, holding her sandwich so Rachel could taste it. Rachel took a big mouthful and chewed noisily. Quinn watched her through narrowed eyes. Rachel's expression quickly turned unhappy.

"Mmm, ewww, " she fussed, flailing her hands and whining. "Out."

Quinn found a paper napkin and pushed it into her hand. Rachel spit the sandwich into it and wadded it up. She handed the mess back to Quinn who grimaced and tossed it into the trash bag.

"Told you," she said lightly.

Rachel was taking big gulps of water trying to wash the taste away. She crammed two olives in her mouth and chewed them quickly.

"It's not that bad," Quinn scolded. "Stop that."

"Don't tell Noah I did that," Rachel begged. She was still scrubbing her tongue with her teeth. "I don't want to hurt his feelings."

"Don't worry," Quinn remarked, eating again. "It wouldn't. He cooks what he likes regardless."

"Well, I like mine," she said, taking a huge bite to prove her point. "But yours sucks."

They finished all the food, including a huge helping of bread pudding, and stowed all their garbage to take back to the truck.

"Can we walk in the surf?" Rachel asked eagerly.

"Sure," Quinn agreed. She got up and held out her hands to help Rachel up. "But be careful, there's a strong rip..."

Before Quinn could finish, Rachel ran squealing into the breakers and started splashing around like a child.

"...tide." Quinn finished to herself.

"Cold, cold," Rachel chanted. She waded out into the surf trying to get her body acclimated to the chilly water.

"And it's cold," Quinn muttered under her breath as she walked to the water. "And there's debris."

Quinn toed the water and stepped back quickly. Even after the heat of the day it was chilly.

"There's a reason those surfers always wear wetsuits," she called to Rachel who was splashing in knee-deep water.

"Come here," Rachel called, reaching a hand towards Quinn.

Quinn shook her head.

"Walk in the surf, fine," she said flatly. "Swim in the surf, not gonna happen."

Rachel pouted visibly. She moved further out into the water.

"Hey, knock it off," Quinn fretted. "Get back up here before you get..."

Rachel squealed as a breaker knocked her off her feet. She splashed under and came up sputter.

"...in trouble." Quinn finished.

Rachel managed to get to her feet, but another wave swept the sand from beneath her and she was down again. This time she came up more slowly, coughing.

"Rachel," Quinn groused.

She started wading into the foamy surf, gritting her teeth against the temperature. Even inside the break, the tide pull was strong and she could feel sand sucking away across her feet. By the time she waded to Rachel she was back down in the water again. Quinn reached down and caught her beneath the arms, pulling her upright. Panicked, Rachel grabbed onto her tightly, threatening to knock them both down.

"Calm down," Quinn urged. "I've got you. Just wait for the next wave."

Quinn peeled Rachel away from her and put her in front, letting her body block the surf. They waited for the next wave to roll in to shore then used its momentum to move closer to the beach and back into shallow water.

Rachel collapsed dramatically on the wet sand just inside the foam. Quinn knelt and rubbed her back.

"You saved me," she gushed between coughing fits.

"Hardly," Quinn replied, shaking her head. "I think you would have managed."

Rachel coughed again and looked up at her. Quinn could see her teeth were chattering and her lips were vaguely bluish.

"Come on, let's get you out of this water," Quinn said, already helping to pull her to her feet. She led her by the hand back to their picnic spot. Rachel hugged herself while Quinn retrieved a dry towel, which she quickly draped around her shivering shoulders like a blanket. Rachel used it as an excuse to move closer, brushing right up against Quinn. It was achingly apparent she was bra-less.

"Sorry," Rachel murmured, cuddling. "I'm getting you all wet."

"It's okay," Quinn said, then tucked her lips in and kept all dirty comments to herself.

Rachel raised her face and touched her fingers lightly underneath Quinn's chin coaxing her face closer so she could brush their lips together. Softly at first, then firmly and finally Quinn pulled Rachel, towel and all, into her arms and kissed her deeply. When she pulled away Rachel's eyes were closed and she was smiling.

"Thank you for rescuing me today," she whispered.

"Thank you for being here to rescue," Quinn answered and kissed her forehead.

Rachel hugged her tightly and pressed her face into her shoulder.

"I think we've had enough beach fun for today," Quinn observed. "Any more and we'll both have pneumonia."

Rachel whined, but obediently turned loose and helped Quinn gather up all their belongings. They made the short trek back to the truck. It seemed much harder now that they were full, damp and caked in gritty sand.

Quinn unlocked the truck and opened both doors so the cab could cool off. She started separating the stuff that needed to go back from the things that could be thrown away. Rachel stood out of her way and watched quietly until Quinn noticed that she was still shivering

"Here," Quinn said, pulling Rachel close to her and rubbing her wet hair briskly with a towel. "I brought some extra clothes. They're in the truck."

"You thought of everything, didn't you" Rachel mused, impressed.

"I did," Quinn said proudly. "I'm thoroughly prepared."

She swept the towel across the glistening skin on Rachel's back and down her arms. She took the opportunity to push Rachel's hair away from her neck and drop her mouth against the soft, damp skin where her neck met her shoulder. It was become one of her favorite spots for her lips to rest. It was such a perfect fit.

"Mmmm," Rachel cooed. "That's nice."

"Sorry," Quinn murmured. "I keep doing that. I just missed y..."

She didn't finish her thought. She couldn't because had Rachel turned in her arms and crushed their lips together.

"We've done that a lot today," Quinn noted when Rachel stepped back.

"I know," Rachel replied. She kept her face close to Quinn's

"Are you tired of it already?" she asked. Her tone was light, but her eyes were serious.

"No, it's..." Quinn gushed.

"Perfect, yes?" Rachel finished her thought and Quinn nodded.

"Yes, very much," Quinn agreed. She couldn't take her eyes off Rachel. The sun glistening behind her, the water shimmering in her hair – she was sun-kissed, radiant. Quinn's fingers gripped her shoulders, clenching tightly. Being alone with Rachel like this was heaven.

And hell.

"Um, we should really..." Quinn stammered, trying to resist the urge to behave badly.

"Yes, right. I'm...I'm going to change out of these wet clothes," Rachel said reluctantly.

"Okay, sure," Quinn acknowledged. "Um, I'll just go...over...somewhere."

Rachel laughed.

"You don't have to," she said intently. "It's not like we haven't...aren't...it's okay if you stay. I trust you."

"I don't," Quinn admitted, smirking. "I'll be over there."

Rachel opened the passenger door and tucked an oversized beach towel over the top of the door and into the window. She cranked the window up, trapping it. She tucked the opposite corner underneath a bungee cord pulled taut across the pick-up bed thus creating a make-shift changing area. It backed up to the ocean and the only people who could possibly see anything were anyone in the distant surf or Quinn. Once satisfied it was secure, she went about changing out of her wet clothes.

Quinn walked off towards the other side of the truck and busied herself with inflating an air mattress she had found behind the seat. Good ole Noah.

"What are you doing?" Rachel called, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"You'll see," Quinn said.

Quinn found herself stealing glances over her shoulder. Rachel was standing with her back turned to her, a beach towel wrapped around her waist like a skirt. Quinn was close enough to see she was naked from the waist up and focused intently on brushing her tangled hair. A small moan fell from Quinn's lips and Rachel's head turned in her direction. Quinn quickly looked away and fussed with sealing the mattress.

Rachel smiled softly. She put the brush down on the seat and pulled a slightly-wrinkled t-shirt over her head. It was a little bit too large, but it was comfortable. She found a par of shorts that didn't fall off and pulled them on, tucking the t-shirt inside to help them fit better. She pulled down her beach towel wall and folded it. Then she draped her damp clothes over the side of the pick-up to dry and went to help Quinn.

"Not bad," she said, posing for Quinn. "I'm impressed."

"Right," Quinn scoffed softly.

Rachel chuckled and ran her hands up Quinn's arms then hugged her around the chest.

"You did a good job," she praised, kissing her cheek. "Thank you."

Quinn just shrugged.

"Can I help?" Rachel offered, keeping both hands on Quinn.

"I'm just about finished," Quinn replied.

"Awesome," Rachel chirped. "You're so handy."

"I have my moments," Quinn admitted.

"Many," Rachel said. "So many.

Quinn could feel her face getting hot. She clapped her hands together loudly.

"Okay, so, come on," she said excitedly. She jumped up in the bed of the truck, then held out a hand for Rachel. "Climb up.

Rachel laughed and held up her hands. Quinn gasped them and easily pulled the little brunette up beside her. The two stood staring out at the rolling surf.

"This is my beach office," Quinn explained. "I do my best thinking here."

"I see," Rachel noted. "And are we here to think?"

"Yes, actually," Quinn said, her eyes going wide. "That's exactly why we're here. No phones, no distractions, just this nice view and plenty of time. At least until the beach closes and they run us off."

"Uh huh," Rachel said softly.

"Come here," Quinn said, stepping back. She knelt down on the air mattress she had put across the truck bed and covered with towels. She beckoned for Rachel to sit facing her. Rachel knelt down carefully and wiggled around, trying to get comfortable. "So now is the time, okay. I want you to tell me everything you need to tell me about this thing with Santana."

Rachel nodded solemnly.

"We'll talk about it and we'll figure it out," Quinn explained. "I mean, if that's what you still want?"

Rachel grabbed Quinn's hand and held it.

"I do," she said, her voice creeping up anxiously. "It's exactly what I want to do."

"Alright then," Quinn continued. "You have my undivided attention. No clock, not appointments, just the two of us."

Rachel squeezed her hand and softly played with her fingers.

"Before we...before we talk about that," she said hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?"

Quinn's exhaled softly.

"Sure, " she said, already anticipating the worst.

"Does this make you happy?" Rachel asked. "Us, together, like this?"

"Yes, of course it does," Quinn answered without a pause. "I'm always happy spending time with you."

"It just..." Rachel started and paused.

"What?" Quinn urged her to finish her thought. "It just what?"

Rachel stared at their joined hands.

"It feels like it's always about me," she said softly. "The time we have feels like it's always about me, my life, my career, my...problems. I feel like you get...I don't know...lost."

"You're right," Quinn admitted easily.

Rachel looked scared, her eyes shifting around nervously.

"It's a lot about you," Quinn continued. "Maybe even mostly about you."

"I'm so sorry," Rachel said.

"Why?" Quinn asked seriously.

"That's just...wrong," Rachel said, her voice harsh. "I mean, where's the..."

"There are moments," Quinn remarked.

"What?" Rachel asked, the confusion plain on her face.

"Moments, I said, there are moments," Quinn repeated. "In all that stuff about you, there are moments that, well, aren't."

Rachel laughed wryly.

"God Quinn," she said, her face twisted. "That's...I can't even..."

She dropped her face into her hands.

Quinn put both of her hands on Rachel's head.

"Rachel, please don't do this," she pleaded. "Don't get..."

"Don't get what?" Rachel mumbled and looked up.

"How you get," Quinn said laughing and throwing her hands up. "I don't even know what to call it."

Rachel chuckled.

"Listen to me," Quinn continued, running her fingers through Rachel's hair. "Right now, yes, it's a lot about you, for a lot of reasons. I know that. I'm okay with that. If I wasn't, I wouldn't be here."

"Quinn..." Rachel groaned.

"No, I mean it," Quinn said urgently. "You have a lot of things going on right now. A lot is changing in your life. I get that. I'm a big part of that. It's okay, Rachel."

"Some days I just..." Rachel whined. "I don't know what I'm doing and now, with all this...it's just going to get worse."

"Maybe not," Quinn offered. "Maybe this is the one thing that makes everything fit, you know?"

Rachel bit her lip anxiously.

"I don't...know," she fumbled out.

"Trust me when I tell you, I want to be here," Quinn said solemnly. "I want to be here...right now with you. So stop..."

"Getting how I get?" Rachel teased.

"Yes, totally," Quinn said, smirking. "And maybe I like playing the white knight for a change."

"Is that what you are?" Rachel asked. "Are you saving me from drowning, from making the wrong decisions, from F..."

Rachel stopped speaking, swallowed hard and looked away. She couldn't bring herself to talk about Finn with Quinn anymore. Thanks to Santana it had been easier to pretend he no longer existed. The fact that he rarely ever called or texted her anymore pushed him even further and further from this reality. But the truth was, he did exist.

"Maybe you're the one doing the saving," Quinn said softly.

Rachel scoffed gently.

"I don't see how that's possible," she insisted.

"Or maybe we're saving each other," Quinn suggested.

Rachel shrugged.

"I suspect it's that you're more a white knight than anything else," Rachel said slowly, looking up at her through her lashes. "I saw you today on the beach and tonight with those kids."

"That's just..." Quinn scoffed dismissively. "That's just...a work thing."

"Bullshit," Rachel said emphatically. She covered her mouth with both hands when Quinn give her a shocked expression.

"Oh really," Quinn teased, the corners of her mouth quirking up. "And what do you think you know about it, little bird?

Rachel giggled quietly. Quinn crawled forward, head-butting into her. When Rachel tugged her head up, she kissed her.

"I want to be here," Quinn repeated. "I want to be wherever you are."

Rachel smiled at her and petted her cheek.

"I love you, Rachel."

Rachel's expression froze, a mixture of surprise, delight and something else. Relief?

"Quinn," Rachel said in a rush of breath.

Quinn could see big tears brimming up in her eyes.

"I do," Quinn continued. "I promise I've said it back every time you've said it. Just not...not out loud. I was trying to wait until things were...different before I said it, but it's just too hard. I can't not say it anymore. Just like not being there for you when you need someone is too hard."

The sob Rachel had been holding back broke free and she threw her arms around Quinn, falling against her. Quinn scooted back and pulled her into her lap, holding her.

"I can't tell, are you laughing or crying?" Quinn asked.

Rachel made a strangled sound that might have been either.

"That didn't help much," Quinn said. "So crying now is a good thing, yes?"

"Yes," Rachel choked out, laughing. "Yes, it is."

"Okay, just checking," Quinn mused.

Quinn leaned back against the window, keeping Rachel against her chest.

"This isn't going how I thought," she said softly.

"Why?" Rachel asked, her voice hoarse. She wiped her eyes.

"Don't get me wrong, I mean, it's, it's good," Quinn remarked. "But not how I thought."

Rachel sniffled and rubbed her over-sized t-shirt across her face.

"I don't understand," she said, sitting back so she could see Quinn's face. "What do you mean?"

"It's just I wanted you to have some time to just play, you know. To not worry about all this," she explained. "So far I've managed to nearly drown you and make you cry."

"Stop," Rachel scolded.

Quinn grinned at her.

"You said you love me," Rachel added quietly.

"Oh right, that," Quinn teased.

"Are you sorry?" Rachel asked timidly. "You know, that you said it?"

"Of course not," Quinn said. "Why would I be sorry about that?

Rachel shrugged.

"You know, because..." she didn't finish.

"It's the truth, Rachel," Quinn said. "Nothing changes that. It just is. I just wish it was more, I dunno, special."

"But it is!" Rachel gushed. She leaned forward and grabbed Quinn's hands.

"It was so special. I mean, you did all this for me. I'm having the best time," Rachel insisted. "It's been the most amazing day."

Quinn reached up her hand and delicately pulled strands of Rachel's hair out of her face, tucking them behind her ear.

"I just wish I wasn't so tired," Rachel complained. "It's like all the sudden I'm feeling so worn out."

"Salt water does that," Quinn muttered. "Tears. The ocean."

"So does being up at three in the morning," Rachel added, yawning deeply.

"Come back," Quinn beckoned, patting a hand to her chest. Rachel turned around and scooted back in between Quinn's legs. She settled back using Quinn as a backrest. Quinn wrapped her arms around her, nudging against her head with her chin.

"Tell me about Santana," she coaxed. "Let's get this figured out so you can sleep tonight."

"Mmm, yes," Rachel hummed contentedly. "Hmmm, you probably already know everything."

"Tell me anyway," Quinn insisted. "Talk me through it. It will be good to clear your mind. Start at the beginning."

"Once upon a time," Rachel said airily.

"Maybe not that far back," Quinn teased, rolling her eyes.

From that point Quinn let Rachel carry the conversation. She listened carefully while she went over everything that Santana had so methodically plotted out for her. Like Santana, she started with where she was now and where she hoped she could be in six months, twelve months and two years time and what things Santana felt she needed to do to make those goals happen.

Quinn said very little, just enough to let Rachel know she was listening. The truth was she did already know a lot of it - at least the general outline, if not the actual specifics. As Rachel filled in the gaps, Quinn could see that Santana was covering all the bases. Once Rachel talked through the nuts and bolts of everything Quinn stepped in, mainly asking questions. They were really more about encouraging Rachel to talk about her best hopes and worst case fears than anything else.

This went on until Rachel was yawning constantly and her words were sleepy and halting. At that point, Quinn felt like they'd said everything that needed to be said. It was up to Rachel to decide what she wanted to do.

Rachel yawned loudly and burrowed her face into Quinn's arm.

"I need to get you home," Quinn said, stifling a yawn of her own.

"Why? No. I don't want to go home," Rachel whined. "Can't we just stay here?"

Quinn shook her head.

"They'll run us off," she told her. "They sweep the lot. I don't want to risk losing Santana's access key."

"Oh," Rachel remarked, clearly disappointed.

Quinn stayed quiet and Rachel dozed lightly.

"I may know a place," Quinn said finally, waking Rachel. "Come on, we'll get this stuff packed up."

Quinn kissed her head and they scrambled out of the bed.

Between the two of them, they quickly packed up their stuff and secured the air mattress down with bungee cords.

"Give me a minute," Quinn asked and she pulled out her cell phone. She made a couple of hushed phone calls while Rachel yawned, stretched and touched her toes several times. Seeing that Quinn was still talking, she perched herself the tailgate of the truck, swinging her legs back and forth and gazing over her fingernails. Bored, she reached out and hooked her fingers in the back of Quinn's shorts, then pulled her backwards. When she was close enough, she circled her arms around her waist and rested her head against her back.

"I think so," Quinn said. "If I have any problems, can I call you?"

She paused, listening closely.

"Are you sure about this?" Quinn asked.

Rachel could hear the voice on the other end of the call, but she couldn't make out what they were saying.

"Alright, alright," Quinn said, a slightly impatient note to her tone. "I know, I know. Okay, thanks again. No, really, I owe you. Okay, bye."

Quinn exhaled heavily and tucked her phone away.

"Everything okay," Rachel asked.

"Uh huh," she said, tickling her fingers over Rachel's hands, which were clasped across her stomach. "We're good."

She paused a moment longer, turning the same few thoughts over and over a few times. When all the edges were smooth and the angsty flavor was gone, she leaned back against Rachel until she fussed about it and pushed her away, whining.

"Stop squashing me," she said pitifully.

"Time to go," she announced, smirking. "You're fussy. It's past your bedtime."

"I'm not fussy," Rachel said, kicking at her.

Quinn walked to the cab and held the door for Rachel.

"Let's see some hustle," she teased. "Let's go!"

Dragging her feet, Rachel reluctantly walked the short distance and got in the truck. Quinn circled back, closed the tailgate and got behind the wheel. They stopped briefly to give Jake a sandwich and some pudding then navigated back through the neighborhood and turned onto the PCH heading towards home.

**=^..^=**


	17. Chapter 17: Under New Management

Under New Management

Rachel leaned up against the door.

"I don't want to go home," she muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Mmm," Quinn replied absently.

She was concentrating on street signs. Spotting the one she was watching for, she turned into yet another enclave of luxury homes. She watched carefully for addresses and stopped to check on her phone before she turned up a private drive. Again, she double-checked her text message as she punched in a security code and still held her breath until the ornate gates swung open. With a relieved sigh, she drove the truck through and watched to make sure they closed before driving all up the driveway. She pulled the truck up as far as she could. She wasn't sure if it could be seen from the street and she didn't want to risk catching the attention of a noisy neighbor.

"Oh my god," Rachel asked quietly. "Who lives here?"

"It's another of Santana's clients," Quinn told her. "He's living overseas on some spiritual retreat and she is stuck managing the property for him while he's away. She keeps trying to talk him into renting it out, but he won't hear of it. Right now she's got Puck and Sam taking care of the grounds and the pool. I come out here with them a couple times a month and check on the aquariums and the fish pond when his regular tank guy gets backed up. They work and gripe, I feed the fish then read and watch the pretty water."

"It's so beautiful," Rachel said, eyes wide with wonder. "Is this okay?"

"I left a message for Santana. She's at some premiere or something and her phone is off. I talked to Puck and he says it is," Quinn said. "I'm not okay with going inside or anything, but I think it would definitely be cool if we crashed on the patio. He says it's okay to use the bathroom in the pool house. I've got all the the alarm codes, too, if anyone shows up asking questions. I think that'll keeps us out of jail."

Rachel put her hand on the door to open it.

"Wait," Quinn said, frowning, having second thoughts. "This is all silly. Let me take you home so you can sleep in your own bed."

"No, this is fine," Rachel insisted. "I think it's fun."

She scrambled out quickly before Quinn could stop her and took off running up the sidewalk to the patio. Quinn hesitated, but realized it was too late – the Berry was out of the bottle and too excited about it. She grabbed a blanket from behind the seat and followed after her. She found Rachel waiting at the locked patio gate, peering eagerly through the slats.

"I tried not to touch it," she said proudly, holding her hands away from the fence. "I didn't want to set off any alarm."

"It's the same as the main gate," Quinn told her, punching in the numbers. "Stupid, I know, but it's not my house."

She pulled the gate open and let Rachel go in first, then followed her. The gate swung closed behind them.

The flagstone patio spanned across the entire back of the house. It wrapped around an enticing crystal blue waterfall-fed pool. On one end there was a kitchen cabana and with changing rooms and a gazebo and on the other a glass-walled guest cottage the owner used as a meditation/yoga studio. Rachel was quite literally skipping from point to point saying, "Quinn, look" each time something caught her eye. It was already dark, but Quinn knew that beyond the patio the view showed nothing but sky and sea. If you listened you could hear the sound of surf in the distance.

"The restroom is in the cabana." Quinn told her. "Puck says it has a shower, too. He leaves the key inside the grill."

Rachel's eyes lit up.

"Oh, can I take a shower?" she asked, eager for the chance to get the sticky, crusty salt residue off her skin

Quinn nodded.

"Sure," she said.

With a happy squeak, Rachel made a beeline for the cabana. She pulled the grill lid up and snatched the shiny silver key, fitted it into the lock and opened the door. She paused and appeared to be looking around.

"What are you doing?" Quinn asked, baffled.

"Checking for cameras," Rachel explained.

Quinn grinned.

"This guy is sort-of old-school," Quinn said. "I don't think he's into high tech security. I've never seen any."

Rachel nodded and looked around.

"If you need a towel, just tell me," Quinn offered. "Preferably before you get..."

The door closed.

"...in," Quinn finished as she heard the water start.

When Rachel emerged in a haze of steam and sandalwood fifteen minutes later, she found Quinn lounging on her back staring up at the stars, her bare feet dangling in the pool.

"I've tried them all," Quinn announced, motioning around to the furniture on the patio. "That one has my pick for most comfortable."

She scrambled to her feet, crossed over and sat down on a wrought iron chaise lounger. She swung her legs up, leaned back and folded her arms behind her head.

"Of course, I use that word _comfortable_ lightly," she admitted. "But it's the best of what I found. The cushion is pretty nice."

"Can I?" Rachel asked, standing next to it.

"I think so," Quinn said. "It's pretty sturdy."

Rachel sat down and snuggled up against her.

"Very nice," she said, tucking her head onto Quinn's shoulder. "Cozy."

Quinn wrapped her arm around her and squeezed gently.

"You smell nice," Quinn commented.

Rachel quirked her mouth and looked guilty.

"Mmmm, well, there were little shampoo bottles," she confessed sheepishly. "And other stuff. It was like a spa. I'm sorry, I couldn't resist. I hope that's okay."

"Probably," Quinn said, biting her lip.

Knowing Puck, she suspected he brought "dates" up here and availed himself of all the amenities, but that was Puck. She made a mental note to tell Santana just in case it should come up. She ran her hand through her own hair. It felt dull and gritty.

"You know," she said, still halfway debating with the idea. "I think I'll follow your lead. I'm gonna shower and change out of these damp clothes. Will you be okay here?"

Rachel nodded.

Quinn kissed her quickly and jumped up. She ran out to the truck and grabbed the duffel bag and carried it back inside the fence. She placed it on the counter in the cabana, fished out some clean clothes and ducked inside the bathroom.

When the door closed Rachel dug her phone out of her pocket. She dialed a number with shaking fingers. Her heart was hammering so hard in her chest she could feel it at the base of her throat. The number rang repeatedly and she had almost given up hope of anyone answering when there came a tell-tale click of a connection.

All she heard was loud music. Music, bits of muddy conversation, laughter and squeals. It sounded like a party. There was rustling and a muffled thud as the phone was apparently dropped.

A voice finally answered.

"What up?"

It was Finn. Suddenly everything she'd rehearsed in the shower went right out of her head. She felt like she might really be sick.

"Finn?" she said nervously.

"You gotta speak up," he yelled into her ear. "I can't hear you with all this going on. Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Finn!" she repeated sharply.

"Rachel?" he said slowly. "Is that you?"

Rachel grunted unhappily and wondered why it never occurred to him to just look at the caller I.D. She was already thinking this was a really bad idea. She toyed with the idea of hanging up except, knowing Finn, he would just keep calling back until she picked up again.

"Yes, it's me," she responded.

"Hey baby," he said loudly. "I was just thinking about you. I know I haven't called. It's been really busy with...stuff."

She wondered if he was drinking. It was hard to tell.

"That's fine. I've had a lot of things to deal with, too," she said, her voice trailing away towards the end.

"So what's up?" he asked.

"I just...Finn, we need to talk," she said tersely. When he didn't respond, she repeated herself. "Did you hear me, Finn? I said we need to talk."

The background noise muffled and there was a crisp rustling. She suspected he was putting putting the phone against his chest, muffling the conversation on his end.

"What was that?" he bellowed. "You went for a walk? Awesome. I know how you like your walks."

"Talk, Finn!" she said harshly. "We need to talk, taaaalk."

"Oh, talk, yeah," he said, then chuckled lasciviously. "Oh, talk, heh, heh. I know how you like our late-night talks. Me, too."

Her face turned into a grimace of disgust.

"Not that kind of talk, Finn," she corrected quickly, gritting her teeth to keep from losing her temper and really screaming at him. "There are things I need to discuss with you."

"So talk," he said. She heard the sounds of the party faded away dramatically. Apparently he'd moved off someplace where he could hear her more easily. "What are you wearing?"

Rachel groaned and pulled the phone away from her ear. It took all her self-control to keep from flinging it into the pool.

"Not now," she said, forcing herself to stay cool. "Not like this."

"Why?" he asked. "No one can see me. I can be quiet. We can do things. Are you touching yourself?"

"Damn it, Finn. I'm not having phone sex with you!" she fumed. "That's not what I'm calling about. God, you're so frustrating."

"I know," he said, groaning heavily. "I'm frustrating, too. It's been so long. Mmmm, okay, guess what I'm doing."

Rachel pounded the heel of her hand against her forehead. Clearly this was pointless.

"I'm not guessing anything," she muttered. "Look, I don't want to do this over the phone."

"We could text," he suggested. "And do pictures, too."

"Finn!" she said sharply, her voice trailing up. "Oh my God, shut up. Just shut up about the sex stuff."

"Huh?" he said.

"Try and comprehend this. There are a lot of things happening with me right now. I need to talk to you, in person, face-to-face," she explained. "As soon as you get back alright? Do you understand me? Right away when you get back, no games. I mean it."

In the past she knew he had a habit of coming home and hiding out for a few days before he called her so he could party with his friends. It was all part of the Hudson charm.

"Yeah, okay, gotcha," he said dismissively. "When I get back, we need to talk about your...things, whatever. So, now that we've got that straight can't we just..."

"I have to go," she said, cutting him off before he could start up again.

"Okay, well, miss you, lov..." he said, but she ended the call before he could finish.

She turned off her phone in case he tried to call her back, or worse, texted her or, god forbid, sent pictures. She pushed it back into her front pocket.

"So stupid," she muttered aloud, wondering if she meant herself or Finn. Probably both now that she really thought about it. Feeling vulnerable, she glance at the bathroom door and wished Quinn would hurry. She snatched up the blanket from across the bottom of the lounger and curled into it, pulling it tight against her chest.

That conversation had gone so spectacularly bad. She closed her eyes and tried to block it out of her mind. Thinking of Quinn just a few feet away in the shower proved a welcome distraction.

Quinn showered quickly using the shampoo and soap Rachel had already opened, After drying herself off and fluffing her hair towel dry, she cleaned up the used towels and other garbage and carried it out with her. She put the garbage in the trash bin beside the grill and draped the towels across the counter to dry. When everything looked presentable, she walked back over to find Rachel curled on her side, asleep. Quinn eased down beside her. She pried the blanket from her grip and pulled it over both of them. Sensing her warmth, Rachel scooted back against her. Quinn kissed the back of her neck.

"I didn't mean to wake you. Go back to sleep," she coaxed. "You've had a long day."

Rachel fretted quietly.

"What's the matter?" Quinn asked, concerned.

"Say it again," Rachel asked softly. "Please."

Quinn nuzzled against her neck.

"I love you, Rachel Berry," she whispered.

Rachel made a contented little purring noise that Quinn found made her ridiculously happy. She draped her arm loosely over her. Lost in the rhythm of Rachel's steady breathing and the whisper of the waterfall, she fell easily to sleep.

**=^..^=**

Santana hated being late and suddenly it seemed she was late to everything. Five minutes here, ten minutes there, just enough so she constantly felt like she was chasing instead of pulling. Even now she was teetering on the brink of running behind and it felt like the very universe was conspiring against her to keep her from getting away on time. The new intern had spilled coffee all over her and she had been forced to change. She had purposely worn what Brittany referred to as her "super-power suit" and was royally pissed it was now a useless, sopping, stained mess. Where before she was perfectly glamorized and accessorized now she was set on_ maim_ rather than _kill_ and that irked her. Just as the sobbing, fawning, clumsy intern had irked her. If she piled being late on top of all that pent-up irritation that could prove a pretty dangerous scenario.

"Shoe, damn it," she hissed, feeling around under her desk with her bare foot.

Her cell phone trilled.

"MOTHERFUCKER!" she spat menacingly. No one in her vicinity batted an eye at her outburst. "What else?"

She snatched it up off her desk.

"Santana Lopez," she barked briskly, still fumbling with a free hand to find her lost shoe. Her fingers brushed the strap behind her wastebasket and she pulled it free.

"Yes," Rachel said without preamble. "My answer is yes."

"Really?" Santana said, now hopping on one foot, trying to pull her shoe on. "You're sure?"

"Let's do it," Rachel said. "Let's jump."

Santana cupped her hand over the phone while she ran in place and pumped her fist in the air several times and followed up with a hip-swiveling cha-cha roll. Her behavior drew casual stares from those around her, but she didn't care. Besides, they were used to her antics and quickly went back to their own business.

"Okay," she said, trying to sound crisp, professional."Yes, absolutely. Let's do this."

Rachel sat up carefully so as not to disturb Quinn who was still sleeping next to her.

"I'm going to try and schedule a meeting with everyone today so I can, you know, cut ties," Rachel said, her voice wavering slightly. "Once that's done, I'll call you."

"Absolutely," Santana agreed. "If there are any problems, glitches, if someone so much as much as bats an eye wrong, anything at all. You call me. I'll handle it, because that's my job."

One of her favorite parts of her job, actually. If she could take out her day's repeated vexations on Rachel's soon-to-be-ex _people_ that would be icing on the yummy Berry-snatching cake.

"Glitches?" Rachel asked timidly. "Like...what?"

"Oh, I don't know, anything," Santana said, realizing her mistake. She smacked a hand to her forehead.

_Damn it, Lopez. You should have coached her on this. Fucking it up already._

"Remember Rachel, you control this ship," she said ardently, hoping to ignite a burst of confidence in her new client. "This is your career, not their. This is everything _you've_ worked hard for and it's your decision how you want to steer the vessel. That includes being able to pick your own crew. Do you understand me?"

"Um, uh uh," Rachel said sounding disturbingly less than confident.

_Oh fuck, she's just telling me what I want to hear. _

This is where it got serious, where everything could easily fall apart. They would try and talk her out of leaving and Santana knew that. If it was her client, she would most definitely do the same. They would make a lot of new promises and empty threats and if Rachel couldn't hold firm and stand up to them, if she gave in and backed down, they would close ranks quickly and Santana wasn't sure she'd get a second chance. It was all resting on Rachel's nerve now.

"Let's try that again," Santana chided. "Rachel, tell me right now that you're going to walk in there like the fierce diva I know you can be and tell them, in no uncertain terms, that as of today they no longer represent you."

"They no longer represent me," she repeated back firmly.

"They had their opportunities and, at this point in your career, you feel your needs are best served elsewhere," Santana added.

"...'Needs are best served elsewhere'..." Rachel parroted under her breath, her eyes closed, as she worked to commit Santana's words to memory.

"You're scaring me here, Rachel," Santana confessed, leaning heavily on her desk, the phone tucked between her shoulder and chin. "Tell me this is going to happen. Say you're going to make this happen."

"Yes, Santana, I will," Rachel promised. "It's going to happen. I'm going to make it happen."

Santana had no real choice but to take her at her word.

"This is the start of something amazing, Rachel Berry," Santana reassured her. "I will not let you down."

"I believe you," Rachel said, her breath starting to give her nerves away. "Amazing."

"Are you okay?" Santana asked seriously. "I mean, you know really? You sound kind of...I know know, walking dead-ish."

_Too much late-night television._

She sat down and spoke quietly into the phone.

"Rachel, if you're having doubts, second thoughts, don't be afraid to tell me," she said. "I may yell and carry on and make scary threats, but you can't be afraid to tell me things."

"I haven't, I'm not. Well, maybe a little," Rachel said. She paused to collect her thoughts. "But I'm ready for this. I can do this. I know it's the right thing. It's the right time. I'm just, I don't know, nervous. Over-thinking everything."

"And...Quinn?" Santana asked anxiously "She called me last night. I haven't gotten back with her yet."

"Oh, that's..." Rachel said.

Her whole demeanor shifted and she sighed in relief at the question.

We're so good," Rachel said, nodding, mostly for her own benefit. "It's all good."

Santana let her breath out softly. At least that was going in her favor. She knew that as long as she put Rachel's best interests at the forefront Quinn would have her back. They might not always agree on the finer details, but for the moment, it wasn't Quinn that she was worried about.

"I'll be here, right here, connected to this phone," Santana repeated. "Ready for anything. Just call if you need me."

"I will," Rachel promised.

"And I promise you one other thing, " Santana said. "After today, you will be so busy you won't have time to worry about missing Quinn Fabray."

"That is not possible," Rachel said softly and hung up the phone. She held it up against her forehead, taking slow, shaky breaths.

"Is everything okay?" Quinn asked sleepily, sitting up behind her.

Rachel jumped at the sound of her voice. She nodded silently and put her phone away.

"I thought you were still asleep," she said, reaching up and grazing the back of her hand across Quinn's chest. "I was trying to be quiet."

"It's okay, " Quinn said, rubbing her eyes. "The surf woke me up a while before you called her."

"So you heard everything then?" Rachel asked.

"I heard," Quinn replied, rubbing Rachel's shoulders. "I guess I better get you home then, huh? Sounds like you have a busy day ahead of you."

"No," Rachel said. "No, I'm not ready yet."

Quinn pulled her down beside her and wrapped her arm across her waist.

"I don't want to go anywhere," Rachel said. "I don't want to move. I just want to stay here like this."

Quinn rested her lips against her shoulder, listening intently to the cues her body was sending. Despite her relaxed position, Rachel's heart racing and she kept rapidly brushing her fingers up and down Quinn's arm Clearly, she was anxious and Quinn suspected she was grasping for reasons to stall.

"What if it's the only time I ever wake up like this. I mean, with you?" Rachel asked softly.

"It won't be," Quinn said. "I promise, it won't be."

"But after today, everything will be different. I don't know what's going to happen," she fretted. "I don't know when I can see you. I mean, it might be...hard."

Quinn grazed her lips along Rachel's jawline.

"Rachel, don't make yourself crazy over this. I'm not going anywhere," Quinn reassured her. "We'll take it as it comes. I'm patient."

Rachel shivered and Quinn tugged the blanket up over them.

"I know what I told Santana, but the real truth is, I hope I can do this," she confessed. "Now that it's really here. I'm not so sure I can."

"You're not doing this alone, Rachel," she pointed out, kissing the back of her head. "Santana is only a call away. And you know if you need me, I'm right here."

"Will you drive me?" she asked. "Wait while I...go in?"

"If you want," Quinn answered immediately. "I can make that happen."

Quinn could feel Rachel start to tense up as all the noise inside her head continued to build; the self-doubt, the questions, the insecurities all nagging. She put a hand on her forehead.

"Relax," she said calmly. "There's no hurry. Go one step at a time."

"But Santana," she fussed urgently. "She so..."

"Santana can wait," she told her. "If you need more time, just tell her."

"Oh, this is a bad start," Rachel whined, her nerves fraying.

"Close your eyes," Quinn urged.

"Quinn," she protested.

"Just do it," Quinn insisted. "And no talking."

Rachel leaned into her, eyes closed, complying.

Quinn slipped both of her hands underneath Rachel's shirt. Her skin was silky soft and warm. She grazed her fingertips across her the flat plane of her stomach feeling the muscles twitch and ripple as she tickled.

Rachel's stomach gurgled loudly and they both giggled.

"Sorry," Rachel apologized, her eyes rolling as her face pinking up.

Quinn kissed below her ear.

"I like that you're always hungry," she told her. "It turns me on."

"Really?" she asked.

"Very much," Quinn said in a low husky voice.

Rachel giggled shyly.

Quinn feathered kisses slowly along her jaw and Rachel exhaled deeply.

"Nice, deep breath," she said, holding her hand flat against Rachel's stomach.

Rachel did as she asked, exhaling slowly.

"Do it again," she urged.

Rachel inhaled and exhaled slowly, pushing against Quinn's hand. Quinn let her fingers tickle up and down Rachel's ribs and nipped at her lightly.

"Do you wanna play a little, chickadee?" she asked, her voice syrupy.

"Mmm hmm," Rachel said, closing her eyes and biting her lip with nervous anticipation.

Rachel tried to turn to face her, but Quinn wouldn't let her.

"Stay right there a minute," she insisted.

She stroked her stomach briefly then swept her hands up and cupped both breasts, squeezing.

Rachel inhaled sharply.

Quinn licked along the back of her neck and teased her nipples, playing with them until were tight, hard, aching. By this time, Rachel was moaning steadily.

Quinn dropped her lips to her shoulder and kissed softly up the side of her neck. She grazed with her teeth, then bit down firmly while pinching her nipples. Rachel jerked and cried out, cupping her hands over Quinn's, encouraging her. She continued to roll and tug until Rachel's breath was coming in quick, short bursts. At that point she let her roll over on her back and shifted so she could kiss her.

"This okay?" she asked her, nibbling on her lips.

"Mmmm hmm, yes," Rachel answered, pulling on Quinn's shirt. "Don't, don't, don't stop."

Quinn locked eyes with her then kissed her softly once, twice, three times. Very deliberately she reached both hands down and unfastened the button on Rachel's denim shorts and eased the zipper down.

Rachel grabbed one wrist and held it.

Quinn moved back up and kissed her, pushing her tongue into her mouth. She teased her, licking and swirling, waiting until Rachel relaxed again and loosened her grip on her arm. When she did, Quinn slipped her hand inside her shorts and massaged her through her panties.

"Quinn, Quinn," Rachel whispered against her neck, panting. "Oh, that's, that's..."

Rachel gasped and squirmed beneath her, her fingers twisting into the blanket.

With her free hand Quinn pulled Rachel's t-shirt up, baring her breasts. She kissed and licked the closest one while her fingers continued to caress her through the thin fabric of her underwear. She knew it was working when Rachel whined and her hips thrust up against her hand. Just to be sure, she pressed her fingertips again and got a similar reaction. At that point, she latched her lips on to a very taut nipple and worked her fingers in deep, steady circles.

"Oh, oh, god," Rachel muttered, over and over.

Quinn sucked and bit as she stroked and Rachel twisted and squirmed beneath her. When she wiggled too far away, Quinn hooked her leg around Rachel's and pulled her close again. She kept going until the little brunette clamped both of her hands over the one between her legs. Wailing, she shuddered, then went rigid. Quinn continued to touch her until Rachel grabbed her wrist and went limp beside her. She didn't move away from her breast until Rachel wound fingers in her hair and weakly tugged her off. Quinn kissed up her chest, under her chin and curled into her, gently nuzzling her face. Rachel still didn't open her eyes, didn't move.

"Too much?" Quinn asked softly, kissing her face. Rachel shook her head, barely moving it.

Quinn moved her lips up to her temple. Her hands kept petting her. Rachel slowly opened her eyes and blinked several times. Quinn raised up on one elbow and stared down at her. Rachel met her eyes and, noting the concerned expression, gave her a tiny smile. Quinn returned it.

"Hi," she said.

Rachel launched herself against her, all arms and need, pressing her face into her neck. Quinn bit her lip, uncertain what to think, and just held her. After several minutes, she could feel Rachel running her fingers along her neck. It was followed by a flurry of feathery, light kisses. They tickled and she squirmed.

"Tickles," she said.

It brought a happy giggle from Rachel, who began licking the same spot. That was making Quinn crazy. Growling, she pulled her away and tried to scowl at her, but Rachel only grinned and kissed her.

"You're not very scary," she told her, rubbing a finger across her lips.

Quinn tried to bite it, but Rachel pulled it away, laughing.

"I am so scary," Quinn insisted lightly. She growled again and moved right into Rachel's face. Rachel petted her cheek and licked across her lips slowly, then pressed their lips together and held them. Quinn kissed her until she pulled away.

"Were you...upset?" she asked her.

Rachel shook her head.

"No, it was," she said quietly, still touching Quinn's face. "I was just really happy."

Quinn narrowed her eyes at her suspiciously.

"Stop," Rachel said, poking a finger on her furrowed forehead. "Don't be mean."

Quinn grunted.

"I'm serious," she insisted. "It was...mmm."

Rachel hemmed in frustration, trying to find the words to express how she felt and failing. She just shook her head instead.

"You'll laugh," she said, staring at Quinn.

"I will not," Quinn said, sounding vaguely offended.

"Yes, you will," she said. "You'll think it's silly. It's...I don't know. Maybe it is."

Quinn kept looking at her, patiently.

"Don't do that," Rachel fussed.

Quinn kept staring.

Rachel put her hand over Quinn's eyes and she fluttered her eyes letting her lashes tickle against her palm. She squealed and pulled her hand away. Quinn quickly kissed her on the mouth and on the chin.

"Tell me," she urged pressing her lips right up against her ear. She licked her earlobe. "Just say it."

Rachel shrugged her off. Undaunted, Quinn pressed her lips against her forehead.

"Tell me," she repeated.

"It's the first time you..." she stopped.

"Go oonnnn," Quinn nudged her.

"It's the first time you ever...did that," she finished. "You know, touched me there."

"Oh, I know," Quinn agreed and kissed her cheek. "Is that what this is about? Didn't you like it?"

Rachel shook her head.

"You didn't?" Quinn asked, her tone anxious.

Rachel exhaled sharply and grunted.

"No, I mean, yes. I mean, yes, I liked it," she said, her face flushing. "Obviously. I liked it. I liked it a lot."

"Oh good, me, too," Quinn said, breathing a dramatic sigh of relief. "In fact, I might want to do it again sometime. I especially liked the part where you went..."

Rachel clamped her hand over Quinn's mouth and glared at her.

"No," she chastised. "Not another word."

Quinn squinted her eyes at her. Rachel moved her hand away.

"Then what?" Quinn asked, her tone subdued. "What?"

Rachel didn't answer.

"Tell me," Quinn insisted. "Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell..."

"That's the first time we did that since you said you love me," Rachel blurted out in rush. Her breath hitched slightly and she paused. "The first time and it made it...different, bigger."

"You mean when you...?" she asked.

Rachel pointed a finger at her, cutting her off before she could finish her question.

"All of it, everything," Rachel continued. "It felt...special."

Rachel glanced at her, flickered her eyes across her face, then quickly looked away. Quinn's gaze never wavered. She swallowed hard, not trusting herself to speak.

"See," Rachel said, her voice tiny and distant. "I told you, it's really silly."

She rolled on to her back, staring up at nothing, hugging herself.

Quinn was shaking her head.

"No," she said finally.

Rachel turned to look at her. Quinn cupped her chin.

"It's not silly," she said, her tone serious. "Not at all."

Rachel blinked, surprised. Quinn kissed her and put her head on Rachel's chest. She stayed quiet and Rachel fluffed her bed-mussed hair until she sat up.

"It's always special," she said truthfully. "You're special. Any time I'm with you it's special. I'm sorry if I haven't made you feel that way."

"Oh no," Rachel said. "You do, you have. You always make me feel so...Q..Q.. Quinn."

Quinn recognized the tone and cradled her. She counted in her head slowly. She had barely reached five before Rachel burst into tears. Quinn felt guilty for not realizing sooner and for the countdown.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, crying against her shoulder. "I thought I wasn't going to do this. I hate that I always do this."

Quinn shushed her.

"Don't, don't be sorry," she whispered, kissing her damp face. "I don't hate it."

"Puck said you do," Rachel said tearfully.

"When? That fucking..." Quinn hissed, pulling away from her. "Don't listen to him. Ever. So help me, I'm going to..."

When realized Rachel was biting her lip and chuckling at her she stopped her empty threats.

"Seriously, don't listen to Noah," she repeated. "Besides, I'm starting to learn the difference between good crying and bad crying."

Rachel laughed.

"Good crying, right?" Quinn teased.

"Yes," she said and kissed Quinn's neck.

Quinn let Rachel pull her back down again.

"Why are you crying then?" she asked again.

Sometimes I just...love you," Rachel confessed. "More than I know what do with."

"Yeah, well," Quinn said slowly. "I get that a lot. It's a curse."

Rachel snickered and shushed her, touching her lips softly.

"Cuddles?" Quinn said loudly, burrowing into her. "Cuddle me?"

Rachel stiff-armed her, trying to push her away.

"Cuddle," Quinn growled.

Rachel's stomach gurgled loudly. She groaned and covered her face with her hands. Quinn collapsed against her, shaking with silent laughter.

"Oh my god, that's so hot," Quinn gasped out, between snickering. Rachel spanked her lightly.

"Ohh, baby," Quinn teased. "So hot, do it again, harder."

Quickly they were both laughing.

Quinn started kissing Rachel's stomach, chanting, "nom, nom, nom." Rachel squealed and tried to roll away. She kept pushing on her until Quinn finally rolled off the chaise and landed with an exhaled whoosh of breath and a soft thud.

Rachel rolled over on her stomach and peeked over the edge to see if she was alright and found her wincing and laughing. Rachel reached her hand down and trailed her fingers across her chest. Quinn smiled up at her.

"I think you need to go take a shower," she told her, threading their fingers together.

Rachel pouted.

"Nnuh," she said, scrunching her face up.

"Yes, chickadee," Quinn said sternly. "Get dressed. We should get out of here. You have stuff, very important stuff."

Rachel trailed a finger down Quinn's chest, then traced it across a sliver of bare stomach where her shirt rucked up. Quinn bit her lip and clenched her fist, trying to ignore the things it was making her feel.

"Okay," she agreed.

She kept trailing the finger, back and forth, smirking ever so slightly, deliberately stalling.

"Rachel," Quinn warned.

"I'm going," she said, impishly. "In a minute."

"Not 'in a minute,'" Quinn said. "Now."

"Fine," Rachel said, rolling back away from the edge. She sat up and swung her legs over the side, carefully avoiding Quinn. "I'm going."

She stood up, pulled her shirt off over her head and dropped it in Quinn's face. The shorts followed quickly after. Quinn snapped her eyes shut but Rachel strutted away still wearing her panties.

"I'm gonna have a shower now, " she sassed over her shoulder.

Quinn raised her head up and cracked open one eye just in time to get an eyeful as she bent over to get a fresh towel.

"Gawd," Quinn muttered, dropping her head back with a solid thud. "Ouch."

"Are you okay?" Rachel asked.

"Fine," Quinn said flatly.

"Let me see," Rachel said.

"No. no!" Quinn said, waving her hands quickly. "Stay over there. Go, shower, now."

Rachel chuckled wickedly and Quinn waited until she heard the door closed before she sat up, rubbing her head.

"Wakey, wakey," a voice sing-songed from the other side of the gate. "Let's see who's still butt nakey."

Quinn tipped her head back as the gate banged open wide. She groaned when Puck strolled through trailed by Sam, who was struggling to carry the pool chemicals they brought with them.

"Awe, damn," Puck said upon seeing Quinn dressed and alone. "I was hoping we'd catch you...sleeping."

"Why are you here?" Quinn asked, pushing herself to her feet.

"We're working men," he insisted, puffing out his chest ridiculously. "We are here on official business.

"

He sauntered over next to her and mugged in her face. Quinn rolled her eyes.

"Yay for you," she said gruffly. "We'll be out of your way shortly."

She wondered if Santana sent them or if this was something Puck cooked up all on his own. It felt like all Puck.

"Yes, we still have to go to work. Unlike you and your little boink buddy," he added.

"Boink buddy," Quinn muttered under breath. She got a sour look on her face and punched him in the arm. "Don't say that again.

He laughed and rubbed his arm.

"Hey Quinn," Sam said shyly, staying carefully out of her reach. "Sorry to crash in on you."

She knew Sam had been keeping his distance from her since the incident with the car keys and she felt bad about it. She waved a dismissive hand and gave him what she hoped was a friendly smile.

"Don't worry about it. It's fine," she admitted. "We're just getting ready to leave. Rachel has places to be."

"Oh, well, okay. We're just gonna mo..." Sam's mouth froze open and his eyes went wide.

"Dude," Puck said, snapping his fingers rudely in his face. "What up?"

Puck and Quinn both turned and saw Rachel walking out of the bathroom. She had a skimpy towel wrapped around her waist, and was wringing water out of her hair. Her skin was a glistening, dewy bronze save for rosy nipples, which were on full display.

"Ohhhh..." Puck said pervishly.

"Myyyy..." Sam sputtered.

"God," Quinn hissed. "Damn it."

She heard Noah start to chuckle and immediately yanked him over by the collar bringing his eyes back to hers. "Turn around again and you'll regret it."

"Yeah, yeah," he said, wheezing. "Okay."

Sam stood in a daze, staring.

"Dude," Puck grunted at him. "Dude, knock it off."

Quinn scoffed and promptly shoved Sam in the pool.

Rachel heard the splash and looked up. When she saw the boys she scrambled to cover herself and dashed back to the bathroom. Puck, who was trying to fish Sam out of the pool, looked up just as the towel around her waist slipped off.

"Holy..." he said, but Quinn's foot connected with his ass before he could finish and sent him pinwheeling on top of Sam with a loud splash.

Quinn heard the bathroom door slam shut just as Puck bobbed up spitting water and fuming.

"What the fuck, Q?" he ranted, slamming both hands down on the surface of the water. "How in the hell was any of that our fault?"

"I never said it was," Quinn admitted with a shrug. "But the horn-dog BS reaction to it, that's all on you two."

He swept his hand and sent a shower of water in her direction, drenching her. Quinn sputtered, dripping and furious.

"You asshole!" she spat out and immediately started looking for some means to retaliate. "Dead Puckerman."

"Shit, dude," Puck said under his breath. "Move, now."

He grabbed Sam by front of his shirt and they both started slogging through the water to the shallow end of the pool.

"And what's with telling Rachel I hate it that she cries a lot?" she barked, suddenly remembering as she picked up a gaudy ceramic garden gnome. "I never said that!"

"I said you hate criers," he said trying to defend himself. "Not just her..."

Sam saw the statue in her hand and practically clothes-lined Noah in his effort to get out of the pool, sending him back under again. He came up coughing and rubbing his eyes.

"Don't you dare throw that," he said, pointing at the gnome. "Dude loves that thing. Santana will kill us all."

Quinn looked at the ugly thing and carefully placed it back on the ground. Puck got a smug look on his face that vanished quickly when she picked up a softball-sized rock instead.

"Does dude love this, too?" she asked menacingly. "Sam, get out the way."

Sam and Noah grabbed at each other and sloshed around clumsily, each trying to push the other back to get to the steps first.

"Sam, I'm serious," Quinn yelled. "I'll bounce this off your head if you're in the way."

"Quinn!" Rachel yelled shrilly, trying to be heard over the chaos. All three stopped and looked towards the bathroom. "Can you come here, please."

Puck elbowed Sam.

"We're saved, bro," he muttered under his breath. "Watch her. It's so fucking pitiful."

Quinn huffed at them, momentarily torn. She narrowed her eyes at Puck and drew back with the rock.

"Dude, you said..." Sam whimpered, sinking down in the water until only his eyes showed.

"Quinn, please!" Rachel called again.

Quinn scoffed and dropped the rock back into the flowerbed.

"Told ya," Puck said smirking.

Quinn stomped back and knocked on the bathroom door.

"Rachel, it's me," she said softly. "Tell me what I can do."

"I don't have any towels," she said. "I don't have anything."

"Okay," Quinn said. "Just, just wait."

Quinn picked up the towel Rachel dropped and shook it out. She also snatched up two others she'd left out to dry overnight and shook them as well.

"Chickadee," she said, knocking again. "Here are some towels."

Rachel cracked the door open and Quinn squinted her eyes shut, holding the towels out.

"Take these," Quinn said, "And I'll get you some..." Quinn said, but never finished because to her horror, Rachel grabbed her wrist and hauled her into the bathroom and shut the door. Quinn backed up against the door, her eyes still shut, holding the towels out like a statue.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked. She sounded vaguely amused.

"Bringing you some towels," Quinn said, holding them out blindly. "Here."

Rachel took the towels out of her hands.

"I'm sorry about those two," Quinn said, sneering in their general direction. "I didn't know they were going to show up. Knowing Puck, I should have guessed. He's already on my..."

Rachel pressed up against her, hard up against her.

"I don't care about them," she said. "It's not that big a deal."

"Yeah, but they saw you..."

"I'm an actress, Quinn," she said. "We change in front of people. Naked isn't such a big deal."

"What?" Quinn said, her train of thought interrupted. "What exactly does that mean?"

"Why are you wet?" Rachel asked.

"I'm...not. Oh, well, I mean, yeah, I am," Quinn admitted. "Asshole Puck."

"You should get out of these wet clothes," Rachel offered helpfully.

"I will," Quinn agreed.

Rachel started to pull up her wet t-shirt, but Quinn stopped her.

"I will, but not right now," Quinn corrected. "Later, you know, after you're finished...in here."

"Why are you acting so..." Rachel asked.

"So, so what?" Quinn interrupted. "I'm not acting anything."

Rachel chuckled.

"You're nervous," Rachel teased.

"I'm not nervous," Quinn insisted weakly. "I'm not...anything."

She exhaled deeply in frustration.

"Open your eyes," Rachel said firmly.

"Rachel," Quinn fussed.

"Just do it," Rachel asked. "For me."

Reluctantly, Quinn opened her eyes, but kept them raised up at the ceiling.

"There, my eyes are open," she said. "Okay? Happy?"

Rachel laughed out loud.

"Seriously?" she said. "Quinn, look at me."

Quinn darted her eyes all around. Realizing it was a lost cause, she lowered them to Rachel's face. Since she was pressed right up against her, it was all of her she could see.

"Thank you," Rachel said softy.

"What are we doing?" Quinn asked.

"You're bringing me some towels," Rachel told her. "And acting like a fool for some reason."

"Okay, right," Quinn said, "Just checking."

Quinn stared at her and reached both hands to brush the hair back out of her face. Rachel batted her lashes at her and Quinn smiled.

"You drug me in here so I wouldn't kill him, didn't you?" she asked.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Rachel deflected innocently.

"Right," Quinn said.

"Maybe I just wanted you to help me get dressed," she countered.

"I haven't brought you any clothes yet," Quinn pointed out.

"Oops, I forgot," Rachel said and bit her lip.

Quinn smiled. She bent and kissed her, sucking her lip free and pulling it lightly between her teeth. She let her fingers slide down Rachel's bare back and come to rest on her hips. She wasn't completely naked, but close enough.

Quinn pulled away first and leaned back against the door heavily.

Rachel wanted desperately to tell her about calling Finn, but when she opened her mouth she couldn't bring herself to say anything about it.

"Say it," Quinn coaxed.

"What do I say?" Rachel asked instead, petting Quinn's chest lightly with her fingertips. Her shirt was clinging wetly to her body and Rachel couldn't help but notice it hugged the curves of her breasts. She wanted to touch, but knew Quinn would probably bolt if she did. "I don't know what to say to them. How do I just end everything?"

They were so different in many ways, Quinn thought to herself. Not unlike Santana, she would have no problem marching into that office and telling every last one of them that they had their chance and failed so they were now being replaced by someone younger, smarter, and more attentive. Rachel, however, was clearly struggling with the task.

Quinn nuzzled under her jaw, one hand cupping the side of her neck.

"We'll figure it out," she told her. "It'll be okay."

"Okay," Rachel repeated, trying to sound like she believed it.

Quinn kissed her again.

"I'll get you some clothes," she said and Rachel nodded.

She moved to open the door, but Rachel put her arms around her and pressed against her, pinning her. Quinn put one arm around her waist and cradled her head with her free hand.

"No worries, chickadee," she soothed. "It's going to be fine, Rachel. I promise you."

Rachel's stomach gurgled loudly in the quiet. Quinn resisted as long as she could, but finally couldn't stop herself and she snickered out loud. Soon they were both laughing.

**=^..^=**

Quinn managed to get Rachel dressed and out of the bathroom and then get dressed herself. To her credit, Rachel successfully managed to get Quinn into the truck and out of the driveway without killing either Puck and Sam. Now they both sat on a make-shift table happily eating at Quinn's favorite beach-side food truck.

"So you just happened to pass this on the way back?" Rachel said.

Quinn shrugged.

Yup," Quinn agreed. "How lucky am I?"

She held up her fork of food for Rachel to taste. Rachel eyed it suspiciously, but opened her mouth to take a bite.

"Uh uh," Rachel said, chewing carefully. Quinn kept a napkin in her hand, just in case. Rachel swallowed and immediately dug her fork into Quinn's plate. Quinn scowled.

"Look at that face," Rachel gushed. "You're so cute."

She leaned across the table and kissed her.

"Hey, no boobs in the food," Quinn fussed, moving the plates aside. She grunted and ducked her head at Rachel's affection because people were watching.

"I happen to know you love my boobs," Rachel teased.

Quinn felt her face go flush. She cleared her throat.

"Sit down and eat before it gets cold," she insisted, pushing Rachel's plate back in front of her. Rachel reach across with her napkin and wiped lipstick off Quinn's cheek before turning her attention back to her food. Famished, she finished all of hers and some of Quinn's as well. She sat sipping on her drink while Quinn cleared away their trash. Quinn came back and sat down across from Rachel.

"Where's your phone?" she asked.

Rachel pulled her phone out and handed it to her. Quinn deliberately placed it in the middle of the table in front of them.

"Okay, here's what I think," she said. "If you really need to take a day or two to think this out and plan what you want to say, then that's fine. I think you should take it, absolutely."

Rachel nodded, listening and staring at the phone.

"But, I know you," Quinn said sincerely. "And because I know you, I don't think more time is your friend here. I think if you wait on this all you're going to do is sit and stew and work yourself up into a big frantic mess about it."

Rachel's brow furrowed unhappily. That's not what she wanted to hear from Quinn.

"That's why I think you need to pick up this phone," Quinn said, tapping a finger on the screen. "You need to pick this up and make the call. Get the appointment and go from there."

"What if he says 'come right over'?" she asked, already over-thinking the process.

"Then we get in the truck and we go," Quinn said plainly.

"Why can't Santana just do this," she whined.

"Bad business," Quinn said, shaking her head. "Poaching clients isn't well received."

"I could just do it by phone or email," she suggested.

"Rachel," Quinn said firmly. "It's about taking back control of your career. This is the first step."

Rachel groaned and leaned her head down on the table.

"I don't think I should have eaten so much," she moaned, rubbing her stomach.

Quinn reached across and scratched her fingers lightly through her hair.

"If I could do this for you, I would," she told her. "I think I could get away with calling for the appointment, but that's about all."

Rachel tucked her arms beneath her head and rolled it back and forth over them. Quinn watched her for a minute, then patted her head lightly and got up. Rachel rolled her head and peered out, watching her. She came back a few minutes later carrying a Styrofoam cup.

"Here," she said, putting it down next to her hand.

"What's that?" Rachel fretted.

"It's tea," she told her. "Some herbal something with honey. Sip it."

Rachel mooed and pushed it away. Quinn rolled her eyes. She picked up Rachel's phone, put it in her pocket, and picked up the tea.

"Get your stuff," she said firmly. "Come on."

She stood up and waited while Rachel fussed around. They crossed carefully to the parking lot. Quinn unlocked the truck and they waited a few minutes while it cooled before they got in.

"Where are we going," Rachel asked, leaning against the back of the seat.

"I'm gonna take you home, " Quinn answered. "You need a nap."

Rachel grunted and flopped down into the seat, putting her head on Quinn's thigh. Quinn smirked and rubbed her back. After a few minutes, she rolled onto her back. Quinn looked down at her, her hand smoothing circles over her stomach.

"Feel better?" she asked.

Rachel scrunched her face up. Quinn exhaled softly and reached for the key in the ignition, but Rachel grabbed her hand.

"Wait," she said, holding onto her wrist. Quinn sat back again and watched as Rachel fidgeted, trying to get comfortable. Finally, she clasped both hands over her face, groaned dramatically and sat up.

"Okay?" Quinn asked.

Rachel nodded and held out her hand. Quinn reached into her pocket, pulled out her cell phone and placed it on her upturned palm.

"Do you want me to get out?" she asked, her hand moving to the door handle.

"No!" Rachel said, grabbing for her. "Stay."

Quinn moved her hand away and sat back. Rachel hemmed around and Quinn could see her lips moving. She suspected she was rehearsing her side of the conversation. Finally, she cleared her throat and dialed the number. She made brief, polite small talk with the receptionist and asked for someone by name. Quinn couldn't quite make it out.

"Yes, I'll hold, thank you," she said.

She pressed the phone tightly against her ear. Her eyes were shut and Quinn could see her hands were shaking. She kept clearing her throat nervously. Quinn could hear someone pick up on the other end of the call and noted that Rachel went pale.

"Jason, hi," she said, her voice faintly cracking. She cleared her throat again. "Fine, fine, yes. It's nice to speak with you, too. It has been a while."

Rachel kept nodding.

"Uh huh," she murmured. "No, no, I'm not sure when he's coming back. Yes, I'm sure it is."

Small talk. He was making small talk. Quinn ached to take the phone away from her and just get an appointment, but it was too late for that now. Rachel was going to have to do this herself.

"Actually, that is why I'm calling," she said finally. "I need to schedule a time so we can talk."

More nodding.

"No, no," she stammered. "Nothing is...I just need to see you, speak with you in person. I'm hoping..."

Clearly he cut her off.

"Oh right, uh huh." She said, her fragile confidence visibly fading as the call lingered on. " Right, of course. And I appreciate that, too."

She was back to nodding.

"Next week?" she said, her brow knitting anxiously.

Quinn touched her elbow lightly and Rachel glanced at her. Quinn shook her head sharply.

"Um, actually, it's...next week isn't good for me," she managed to say. "In fact, I was, um, hoping we could, well that we could speak sometime today."

There was silence. Rachel started to open her mouth, but Quinn put her fingers to her lips and shook her head.

"What time?" Rachel asked. "Yes, okay, that, that would be fine. I look forward to seeing you then."

She was back to nodding.

"Yes, that's fine. I'll see you then. Goodbye."

Quinn pulled the phone out of her fingers and made sure the call was disconnected.

"When?" she asked.

"Three o'clock," Rachel said quietly.

"So four hours," Quinn noted. "Okay, we can do that."

She made a small mewling sound. Quinn scooted over and pulled her against her shoulder.

"Okay, that part's over," she told her. "Just a little while longer and it's all done."

"Quinn..." Rachel said pitifully.

Quinn looked at her and frowned.

"Are you gonna..?" she asked.

Rachel nodded. Quinn scrambled out her door, pulling Rachel along with her and chanting "not in the truck" under breath. She got her out of the vehicle and into the grass before her breakfast came back up.

"I'm so sorry," Quinn cooed, holding her hair and rubbing her back. When she was finished, Quinn sat her on the tailgate and got the tea from the cab.

"Here, rinse and spit," she told her, holding the cup up to her lips. Rachel tried to push it away, but Quinn wouldn't let her and she finally relented. Quinn ran across the road and returned with a handful of napkins and two bottles of water. She used one to wet the napkins to clean off her face and hands. She dried her off with a beach towel.

"Again," she said, pushing the cup into Rachel's hands. Rachel didn't bother trying resist. Quinn waited until she was sure Rachel wasn't going to have a repeat performance, then she walked her to the truck and helped her in. She pulled the belt across her lap.

Rachel smiled.

"I remember this part," she said, her eyes flashing up at Quinn. Quinn grinned at her.

"You do, huh?" she teased back, glad to notice some color coming back to her cheeks. Quinn kissed her temple. "I do, too."

She pushed the door closed. When Quinn climbed in, Rachel leaned her head against her and closed her eyes. Quinn drove them straight to Rachel's condo where she promptly sent the little brunette upstairs to nap. She sat at the kitchen table and checked her voice mail and returned any business calls she could manage.

Once that was done, she called Santana.

"I hear Puck crashed your date," Santana teased.

"Asshole," Quinn sputtered.

"He's jealous," Santana mused. "You're all caught up in this yay Rachel business and now he's stuck with Spam as his wing man."

"Puck doesn't need a wing man," Quinn insisted, rolling her eyes. "I don't want to talk about him. Tell me how to get Rachel through the rest of this day. We've already had crying and puking. I'm about to the end of my cute/sweet quota for the day."

Santana rolled her eyes.

"Tough love," she said, shaking her head. "You gotta pump up her courage and push her out of the nest. That's all you can do. Your little sparrow either flaps and flies or falls on her widdle feathered head."

"Knock it off," Quinn spat.

Santana chuckled merrily which aggravated her even further.

"You could make her mad," Santana suggested lightly.

"Why would I want to do that?" Quinn asked testily.

"Because she tends to try and prove people wrong when she's mad," Santana said smirking. "That's Rachel 101. I learned that pretty quick."

"Hmm," Quinn said. "I've already made her cry and fed her until she got sick. I'm not making her mad at me."

"It was just a suggestion," Santana remarked.

"Not doing it," Quinn repeated. "She's already a mess over this. Playing mind games is the last things she needs."

"That's your call. I'll leave it up to you to work this out," Santana said. "Just have her call me when the deed is done."

"Whatever," Quinn replied and hung up.

She glanced at her watch. Rachel had been asleep an hour. Quinn planned to let her sleep another hour unless she woke up sooner. Bored, she decided she'd just go look in on her and found herself bounding up the steps. She pushed open the door to her bedroom and peered inside. Rachel was curled in a blanket-wrapped ball on top of the comforter.

Making sure her alarm was set, Quinn slipped off her shoes and eased down on the bed. She kept well away from Rachel. She wanted nothing more than to just steal a quick nap. It felt like she had only just closed her eyes when Rachel was waking her with soft kisses and whispers.

"Hey," she said, smiling down at her.

It took Quinn a few seconds to realize that Rachel was not only awake, but that she was already dressed, her hair flawlessly straightened and her make-up applied just so.

"Sorry," she said, struggling to wake up. "I fell asleep. I thought I set my alarm."

"You did," Rachel said. "I turned it off. I know you're tired."

"No, no, I'm good," Quinn insisted, sitting up.

Her eyes felt sticky and blurry and she rubbed them vigorously. Seeing Rachel looking so perfect, she self-consciously ran her fingers through her hair, trying to flatten it, but finally gave up. Rachel noticed and smoothed her hand through it helpfully. Quinn tried not to squirm with the attention.

"You look like you're feeling much better," Quinn noted.

Rachel covered her face with her hands and peered through her fingers.

"I'm so sorry," she said, her voice muffled. "I can't believe I did that."

"No, please," Quinn waved her off. "That was – that was my bad habits rubbing off on you. I'm sorry."

Rachel pouted at her.

"You have gone so above and beyond the last couple of days," she corrected, threading her fingers in Quinn's. "I feel so – special. I can't thank you enough."

She leaned in, clearly wanting to be hugged and Quinn pulled her close. Rachel tipped her head onto Quinn's shoulder.

"It's almost done," Quinn said. "Just one last hard bit and I'll bring you home."

"Will you stay with me tonight?" she asked.

Quinn closed her eyes. She should have seen that coming.

"Ummm, let's see how it goes," she said, stalling. "One thing at a time."

Rachel huffed softly, but didn't push the issue.

"You look very beautiful," Quinn added. She could tell she was smiling.

"I wanted to look – professional," she explained, sitting up. "I felt it was important to be 'the product,' so to speak."

"You want to show them what they had and lost," she said, quirking her brow.

Quinn tweaked her nose and Rachel scrunched it up.

"I would never. That's just – that would be..." she stammered.

Quinn kissed her cheek.

"It would make Santana very proud of you," she said.

"Really?" Rachel asked, wide-eyed.

"Oh yes," Quinn said, nodding. "Definitely an A+ in the S. Lopez playbook."

She could tell that pleased her immensely.

**=^..^=**

For all the angst and worry, the actual deed itself went off without a hitch.

Quinn dropped Rachel off at the door and watched as she marched inside – head up, chin out, eyes fierce. She wasn't sure if she was really brimming with new confidence or if she was merely acting, but she looked for all the world like she was going into battle.

Then the waiting began.

Quinn fidgeted and worried for 36 minutes. She cleaned out her glove box, dusted her vents and alphabetized the contents of her wallet. All the while, in her head, she went through every possible worst-case scenario her imagination could throw at her. She was just about to get out and go inside when she saw Rachel strutting across the parking lot. She took the fact that she wasn't crying as a good omen.

Rachel opened the door and climbed inside and just sat, silent. Quinn noticed she had some papers rolled up in her hand. After a few anxious minutes of silence, Quinn couldn't stand it any longer.

"Rachel," she said, reaching for the papers she was clenching in her fist. She tugged them out of her grip and unrolled them. At a quick glance, they appeared to be documents terminating services. Quinn immediately worried about Rachel signing anything without a lawyer, but she kept her comments to herself.

"Are we good?" Quinn asked lightly.

Rachel exhaled deeply and turned to look at her. She just nodded. Quinn sighed and scooted over closer.

"It's over then?" she asked again.

"Mmm hmm," Rachel mustered.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" Quinn inquired gently.

"I-I just did like Santana said," she told her. "I just said the things she told me to say. I said thank you and it's been wonderful, but..."

Her voice trailed away.

"I-I didn't cry," she declared proudly. "Not even a little."

Quinn rubbed her back.

"It would have been okay if you did – even a little. No matter, it's all done," she said. "As bad as it might have been, it's all behind you now."

She kissed her head. Rachel groaned and leaned heavily against her.

"He was so nice about it," she said sadly. "I felt so guilty."

_Thank goodness he wasn't a dick about it. That was really Quinn's biggest concern. I'm sure he was as smooth and slick as silk when he needed to be – the best usually are. No offense, Santana. _

"That's good," Quinn said. "I mean, not that you felt guilty, which you shouldn't, but that he was nice about it. You did the right thing. No bridges burned. Let it go now, chickadee."

"I know," she said unconvincingly. "I'm trying."

"Call Santana," Quinn suggested. "She'll cheer you up. Believe me."

Rachel pouted a little while longer then made the call. Quinn didn't need to hear both sides of the conversation. She'd been on the receiving end of many of Santana's "you rock and here's why" pep talks. It was one of her real gifts – she could talk you into believing you could really fly when she got wound up. Of course, she was nowhere to be found when you jumped off the nearest building and fractured all the bones in your wings, but it was still nice to hear now and then. By the time Rachel hung up the phone she was beaming.

"She says you're supposed to bring me home with you," she announced brightly.

Quinn's stomach fell to the floor.

"Excuse me?" she said.

"She said that you are supposed to bring me home with you right now so we can all celebrate," she said eagerly. "A feast in my honor. Her treat."

Quinn suppressed what she really wanted to say and gave her what she hoped was a happy smile.

"Awesome," she added for good measure. "Let's go."

"Yay," Rachel said, bouncing happily in the seat.

While she drove, Rachel gave her an indepth recounting of her meeting. On the more detailed play-by-play there were a couple of comments that Quinn could easily argue weren't really all that nice, but she took her own advice and didn't respond. Santana, however, might not be so forgiving.

When they walked in the house Santana was all kisses, hugs, flowers, champagne and gourmet take-away. From the moment they set foot in the kitchen she was glued to Rachel's side – listening to her patiently, praising her incessantly and talking about the great things that were just around the corner. She was also all about keeping as far from Quinn as she could and not be obvious about it. She knew Quinn well enough to know that she wouldn't spoil Rachel's moment, but she also knew she wasn't above yanking her out of earshot and chewing her ass if she got the chance. She made certain the opportunity never presented itself.

When Puck appeared with Sam that gave Quinn a new target. Sam quickly became another one because he simply could not stop staring at Rachel.

"For God's sake," Quinn muttered to Rachel at one point. "Go talk to him or something. It's pitiful."

"I think he's sweet," Rachel said. "Don't be mean to him."

At that point, Quinn scoffed loudly. She got up and sat with Brittany and ignored everyone else for a while. Brittany took advantage of the opportunity to update her on everything new and interesting about Crackers, which was quite a lot.

"Did you know that rabbits can't throw up?" she asked randomly in the middle of another comment.

"What?" Quinn asked with a laugh and immediately realized her mistake. When dealing with Brittany the safest and best response was usually "uh huh" or "hmmm." That would usually end the conversation pretty quickly, but anything else, anything remotely resembling interest, would risk generating an avalanche of info-dumping.

"They can't throw up," she repeated. "I looked it up."

Quinn groaned and her eyes glazed over.

"Well it's not that they can't really," she explained. "It's that it's really, really hard for them. It's like they have an alligator at the top of their stomach and once stuff comes in, it won't let it out. If they get really sick their stomachs can, like, explode. For real."

"Uh huh," Quinn said hopefully.

"Santana thinks that would be cool, but I think it would be awful. Horses are the same way about the exploding stomach thing. Rabbits sweat through their feet. Horses don't. Their teeth keep growing though – all the time – just like rabbits. They just grow and grow and grow. That's why rabbits have to gnaw on hard things like carrots and wood to keep them from growing through their gums. Horses, too. And you have to file their teeth down so they don't chew their own mouths up."

"I think Crackers needs a horse playmate.," Quinn interjected helpfully, glaring at Santana. "You can name it Thumper."

Brittany leaned down close to Quinn.

"I'm working on it," she whispered. "Santana said the zoning is all wrong where we live now, but I've called the mayor's office to see if I can get them to change that."

"Go Brit," Quinn said, smiling and pumping her fist.

"Shhh, don't tell, San," she said. Quinn crossed her heart and gave her a thumbs up. "It'll be a surprise."

"Boy will it ever," she snarked.

Quinn could see Santana out of the corner of her eye and the look on her face told her she was starting to realize it might not be such a good idea to let Quinn talk to Brittany.

"Did you know an octopus has a beak like a bird?" she asked.

"Hmmm," Quinn said, nodding.

"And the male octopus has a penis for an arm," she added.

"What?" Quinn said and clamped her hand over mouth. "Uh uh."

It was too late.

At that point Brittany launched into a what was apparently a work-in-progress dissertation on cephalopod reproductive traits that soon had Quinn's eyes crossing. Fortunately Santana announced it was time to eat before she passed out entirely. Before they sat down to eat Rachel wasted no time in reclaiming Quinn.

After they'd eaten and cleared the dishes, the two of them joined everyone in the living room while they watched movies. Rachel quietly cuddled next to Quinn, who struggled to stay focused. After an hour, she gave up and got to her feet.

"Alright you lot," she announced. "I've had enough of your mediocre company for today. I'm packing it in."

"In what?" Brittany asked and Santana shushed her.

"In my Hello Kitty lunch box, sweetie," Quinn told her.

"You have one, too?" she asked excitedly. "We should go on a picnic with them."

Quinn walked over and kissed her forehead.

"It's a date," she told her. "If San says it's okay, that is."

Santana shrugged.

"I'm good with it," Santana said, staring at the screen.

"Yay," Brittany said, clapping softly. "Can Crackers come, too?"

"We'll see," Quinn said.

She winked at her which Brittany immediately took to mean "yes."

"Worst rabbit name ever," Santana muttered under her breath and Brittany glared at her.

"Can Rachel come?" Brittany asked suddenly.

Now Quinn shrugged.

"You'll have to ask her," she said.

Brittany looked to Rachel expectantly.

"She'll be busy," Santana said flatly, but everyone ignored her.

"I would love to," Rachel said and Brittany's smile brightened ten-fold. "I guess I'll need to get a lunchbox for that."

"You can use Santana's," Brittany volunteered. "She won't use it except when she's at home. She says it would be too..."

"Brittany..." Santana scolded and Brittany bit her lip. There was snickering all around that ceased when Santana growled.

"Goodnight, hooligans," Quinn said. She held out her hand to Rachel, who grabbed it immediately and bounded up after her.

"Goodnight everyone," she said and trailed after Quinn. She followed her down the hall and into her bedroom. Quinn shut the door behind them and, uncharacteristically, turned the lock. She saw that Puck had finally installed the cat door she'd been after him to put in. She nudged it with her toe.

"Hmm," she mused and wondered if either cat had noticed it.

She sat down on the bed and pulled Rachel down next to her.

"You have to make a deal with me," Quinn said quietly.

Rachel nodded.

"You don't even know what I'm going to say," Quinn teased, grinning.

"Oh," Rachel said. "I'm sure it's fine, whatever it is."

Quinn chuckled.

"Okay, this is the deal. We're going to get ready for bed. We're going to get in that bed. We're going to cuddle a little bit. We're going to go to sleep. That's it. That's the deal."

"Okay," Rachel agreed quickly, her eyes flashing.

"No, now see, right there," Quinn scolded, waggling her finger at her. "I know that look. That's the "oh she says nothing's gonna happen, but I'm gonna make it happen anyway" look. Uh uh."

Rachel grinned at her.

"It's been a very long day," Quinn said. "Sleep is all that's going to happen."

Rachel nodded.

"Sleep," she said. "And cuddling."

"A little cuddling," Quinn corrected.

Again, much cute nodding ensued.

Quinn found her something to sleep in and, after apologizing for living with Puck, sent her off to the bathroom to change. She changed quickly and waited for her to come back. She started to mess with the cat door again when Rachel walked back inside. She immediately dove under the covers Quinn had turned down and wiggled around, getting comfortable. Quinn locked the door again, turned out the light, and climbed in beside her.

Rachel waited a full five minutes before she wiggled closer, pressing up against her.

"This is so not going to work," Quinn announced.

"No, no, wait," Rachel whimpered. "It will." She moved away a little bit, but Quinn pulled her right back.

"It's not," she said. "And I'll show you why."

She kissed her lightly, nuzzling her face.

Rachel giggled.

"See, it's okay," she said insisted.

Quinn kissed her again, harder, and moved away. Rachel moaned, grabbed her shirt, and pulled her right back into another kiss.

"Mmm," Quinn said, moving her lips to her throat. "Told you so. I'm going to sleep on the couch."

"No, don't you dare," Rachel scolded, grabbing onto her, holding her. "Cuddling, just cuddling."

"This isn't cuddling," Quinn teased, licking her. "Cuddling makes you sleepy. I'm not sleepy. This is the opposite of sleepy. This is I really can't keep from..."

Quinn sat up quickly.

"I can make you sleepy," Rachel insisted, pulling on her arm."You'll see."

Quinn looked at her dubiously.

"You get once chance," she said. "One, Rachel."

"Okay, you'll see," she said again. "Here, right here."

She patted her shoulder and motioned for Quinn to put her head down. She leaned back against Rachel's shoulder like she insisted. Rachel squirmed against her, getting comfortable and wrapped her arms around Quinn.

"See, isn't this is nice," she said. "Cuddling."

"Hmm," Quinn said.

She had to admit - it was comfortable, very comfortable. Rachel was softly stroking her arm. To her surprise she started singing, very softly.

"So good," Quinn muttered, trying to listen, but her eyes got heavier and heavier.

She was asleep before the first chorus ended. Rachel hugged her tightly and kissed her neck, then snuggled and closed her eyes, too.

**=^..^=**

After everyone had gone to sleep, Loki crept down from his spot above the washing machine and prowled through the house.

The lithe feline jumped up on the couch, He cautiously sniffed Santana's bare leg and hissed softly, his tail puffed out. He moved up and sniffed Brittany's hand and licked it. She giggled in her sleep and Santana pulled her closer, automatically kissing the back of her head.

From the arm of the couch, he jumped to the recliner and sniffed Sam's shaggy blonde hair. He jumped down, scampered away and then quickly came back. He marched up Sam's legs and dropped his prize – a dead lizard – on Sam's chest. He batted it a few time and raced away.

Slinking down the hall, he came to Puck's door. It was closed. He nudged it with his head a couple of time, chirruping anxiously, then pawed underneath it. He knew Zip was in there and was frantic to get inside, but nothing worked. He paced back and forth – yowling – until Puck threw a shoe at the door and threatened to put him in the garage. At that point he darted around the house in a mad frenzy, racing up and down the stairs. After several high-flying round trips, he marched into the kitchen, found Puck's best work shoes and coughed up a hairball in the toe.

He paused briefly to drink and eat, his eyes and ears always moving. When he'd had his fill, he stalked back down the hall and nudged Quinn's door. It was closed, too. He sniffed the new cat flap tentatively and jumped back when it moved. He pawed it and watched it flutter back and forth. He poked his head through and came back out again. Like quicksilver, he was through it and inside.

Two little red eyes appeared at the foot of the bed. They blinked slowly, watching silently.

When no one moved, the little cat slipped softly up on the bed, He carefully padded across Quinn and sniffed Rachel as she slept. He immediately began to purr. He moved back down the bed and began kneading the blanket. When he was sufficiently comforted, he hopped onto Quinn's chest, circled around several times, then curled into a ball.

After one last look around, the little red eyes closed and stayed closed until the morning.

Until the screaming began.

**=^..^=**


	18. Chapter 18: Supply and Demand

Supply and Demand

Quinn sat on the steps of the deck looking off into the hedges, her hand absently stroking Pie's head. It was an unseasonably cool night so she and Noah brought their dinner outside, eating off paper plates and now sat relishing the welcome breeze. Too full to finish, Quinn had been giving bits of her leftovers to Pie. Initially he was eager and took a few bites, but he quickly lost interest and now didn't bother lifting his head to sniff and see what she was offering.

"He's not eating very much," she commented to Noah, who was sitting on the picnic table nursing a beer and watching them. "I don't like that. His appetite has always been the one steady thing he's had going."

"Look, it's probably just too rich. Besides, table scraps aren't good for an old guy like him," he observed. It was true, probably. He was looking to find a plausible excuse because he knew that's what Quinn needed to hear. He was running out of such excuses.

"Besides, he ate his regular food this morning," he added. "He's probably just still full. It's not like he burns it off, you know?"

_Some of it. He ate some of it. Quinn had been working odd hours and wouldn't know different. It was a small lie. A comforting lie. _

"I guess," she acknowledged reluctantly, putting the plate aside. "Maybe he just doesn't like it."

Puck scoffed.

"Um, unlikely," he countered, trying not to sound offended. "Maybe it was you who didn't like it. You sure didn't eat much."

"It was fine," she said and Noah rolled his eyes.

"Fine," he repeated flatly. "Whoa, that's a ringing endorsement. Please hurry in and eat here, the food is – fine."

He said it with a nasal clipped tone – accurately mimicing her voice.

"No, don't," she insisted. "It was good, really, I promise. I'm just not very hungry is all."

"Hmmm," Noah hemmed doubtfully and swigged from his bottle.

"Do you think we could let Loki outside?" she asked, hoping to change the subject.

Puck barked a laugh.

"Sure," he said wryly. "So long as you never want to see him again."

Quinn crimped her lips. The odd little cat had been yowling unhappily and butting his head into the screen door in a frantic effort to get to Pie. Apparently he'd given up and disappeared back into the house.

"Maybe he wouldn't run off," she said optimistically.

Puck grunted.

"Oh right," he snickered. "Seeing how he's so bonded with us and all."

At that moment Loki reappeared, this time in Puck's open bedroom window. He promptly resumed yowling and mashing his face violently against the screen.

"You little... how'd he get in there? Don't you pee on anything," Puck warned, scowling in his direction. "Barfing, useless rat demon. Why do we even have him?"

Quinn laughed.

"I don't know that we do 'have' him," she answered. "Pie has him. He just tolerates us. You're just mad that you can't leave your shoes laying around anymore."

Puck sneered at her.

"For real, though," he continued. "I mean, at least Mojo is affectionate. Sometimes."

As though on cue, the fat, wooly gray cat appeared on the far side of the deck. He sauntered up to Quinn's half-empty plate and began eating.

"Hey, that's not for you," Quinn said, frowning. "Out."

She tried to nudge him away, but he meowed loudly, swatted at her hand and bulldozed right back to the food again, firmly planting both of his front paws on the plate so she couldn't move it away.

"Ha, look – he's standing in the potatoes," Puck said.

"Mojo," Quinn fussed, pulling the plate away from him. "No, go away."

"Q, just let him have it," Puck scolded with a dismissive wave. "Pie's not going eat anymore and neither are you. You're just gonna toss it so at least let somebody have it."

"Fine, whatever," Quinn said, not happy with being crossed. "Just remember you said that if he barfs it up all over your room later."

The comment earned another grunt from Puck. The two of them had been sniping back and forth at each other most of the evening. Not fighting exactly, but picking, prodding, each trying to get a rise from the other. It was a by-product of too much togetherness – at work and now at home.

"So where's whatshername?" he asked, knowing the subject would get a reaction. "Seems like I've been feeding you solo a lot lately. Not that it does any good, mind you."

She cut her eyes over to him.

"I don't ask you where your skanky dates are," she snapped in response.

"So you're admitting you have a skanky date, too?" he replied smugly.

"Hell no – you know what I meant," she fired back. "Shut up."

They sat in silence for several minutes, letting the fumes clear.

"So you really don't know where she is?" he asked, trying again.

"No, I don't know," she snapped, clearly peeved with the question. "What day is it again?"

"For real?" he teased. "You two aren't _that_ far gone are you?"

"No," she admitted. "It's just, well, I can't keep up with her damn calendar anymore. She's got some class or workshop or some...judo/yodeling/yoga/origami bullshit something. Honestly, I'd have to check with Santana."

She picked up a rock and threw it as hard as she could across the backyard. It bounced off a tree trunk and ricocheted into the yard. Noah chuckled.

"So that's how it is now, huh?" he smirked. "The honeymoon is over already? I lost track, did you even get to have one?"

"Shut up," Quinn shot back, bristling. He could see her eyes scanning around for another rock.

"Hey, only teasing, Q," he added lightly. She was tired and sometimes she didn't get all the nuances quite right without some help. Teasing was fun and all, but he wasn't interested in getting pelted with gravel over it.

"Sorry, sorry, I know," she admitted, exhaling deeply. "It's just...god. I know I signed on for all this so I shouldn't really complain too much, but... "

_I so fucking hate this._

She finished the thought in her head. She couldn't risk saying it out loud to Noah – his mouth was too big. She couldn't risk him repeating it to Rachel, even innocently – she already had enough to worry about it.

The truth was she hadn't seen Rachel in days.

At first the new routine wasn't such a big deal. They found time - mostly around lunch or breakfast, just sweetly stolen moments here and there. Then suddenly it was as though a vacuum descended and free time no longer existed in Rachel's world anymore.

While there had been a few brief phone conversations and occasional texts, true to her word, Santana had Rachel so busy she didn't have time to worry about anything, not even missing Quinn. Between classes, countless consultations, workshops and networking industry events, Rachel's schedule was booked. What tiny leftover scraps of free time she did have were quite literally spent sleeping. The last time they spent an evening together Rachel fell asleep midway through dinner and she spent the rest of the evening sleeping in Quinn's lap while she read. Quinn woke up in the early hours of the morning to a lipstick kiss stain on her cheek and a note.

Quinn, on the other hand, filled her time as best she could – mostly by falling head-long back into work. She signed new clients, cultivated new contacts and spent long, odd hours working in the field. What few off-hours she did allow herself were spend mostly reading, taking up long-neglected renovation projects and bickering with Noah – all the while constantly reminding herself she was being supportive. At least she took some small measure of comfort in the fact that if Rachel didn't have time to spend with her then she didn't have it to spend with anyone else either.

"Did it ever occur to you that maybe, just maybe, Santana has no idea what's she's doing?" Noah suggested tentatively. "That just maybe she's full of shit?" He watched her closely to gauge her reaction. She smirked and nodded, adding a throaty chuckle to the mix.

"It has crossed my mind," she admitted. "Maybe... a few times."

She didn't really believe it, but she wasn't up to arguing with him about it. It was much easier to just agree with him. Puck, on the other hand, wasn't anywhere near ready to let the topic go.

"And that nonsense about your script," he said excitedly. He choked and sloshed his beer slightly as he worked himself up into a rant. "If you ask me, that's just fucking insane. Pure grade-A prime Santana Lopez BS."

Quinn didn't respond. She regretted that Puck knew the details of Santana's latest scheme – that the option had lapsed on the script she and Santana had written and that Santana was once again brokering it. The original producer requested an extension, but Santana was reluctant to commit. In fact, she stalled by telling him she needed a week to consult with her partner so they could "explore their options." The real truth was that Santana was against renewing with him or anyone else. She had confessed to Quinn what she really had in mind was to try and use the script as leverage to get a development deal for Rachel. In a sleep deprived moment, Quinn made the horrible mistake of telling Puck.

All parties involved knew it was a long shot. The odds of finding a studio willing to bite on such a project – one with an unknown actress attached to a script by untested writers – were virtually none-existent. Nevertheless, Santana wanted to ignore the statistics and roll the dice anyway. In her words, "it's worth a shot," even if it meant failing and having to start over from scratch again.

"If they want the script now, they'll still want it in six months," she reasoned.

Quinn was torn. Agreeing with Santana meant giving up the guarantee of easy money that came from granting a new extension. On the other hand, cashing out felt tantamount to saying she didn't have faith in her friend's abilities. Even worse, she worried it would look as though she didn't have confidence in Rachel. For that reason alone, she kept her thoughts to herself.

Noah, however, had no qualms about expressing his opinions, whether anyone wanted to hear them or not. Santana made it clear she wasn't vaguely interesting in anything he had to say while Quinn at least acknowledged the situation indirectly affected him. She let him speak his mind and tried to bite back any comments. He wasn't shy about letting her know he disapproved of Santana's idea any time the subject came around.

"Come time we need a new roof or the water heater explodes, you're gonna wish you had that check," he muttered. "Not to mention we still have rooms upstairs to finish out. Think about how nice another functional bathroom would be."

Quinn exhaled loudly, drained. She couldn't argue with his logic and the smug look on his face told her he knew it, too.

"You know I'm right," he insisted, trying to force her to agree with him.

She pretended not to hear him and flopped down onto her back, staring up into the tree canopy shading the yard. After a few minutes, Pie scooted over and put his head on her chest. She hummed a greeting as her fingers scratched behind his ears. His tail swished happily across the boards. When she stopped he licked her fingers and nudged her hand until she started again. Content, they both closed their eyes and eventually fell asleep, one right after the other.

Puck left them dozing and went back inside to clean the kitchen. When he finished, he came out and helped Pie into the yard. He watched patiently while the old dog went about his nightly routine – moving slowly around the yard in familiar patterns. When he faltered going up the steps, Puck picked him up and carried him into the house.

With Pie settled, he walked back outside to deal with Quinn. He found she had turned onto her side and curled in a ball.

"Come on, Q," he said, kneeling down, nudging her awake. "On your feet."

She sat up and rubbed her face with both hands.

"Where's...?" she asked groggily, looking around.

"He's inside," Noah answered before she could finish. "You're next, come on."

He held out his hand and she took it. He gently pulled her up, then swept her up off her feet. She didn't put up any resistance. He carried her through the house and put her down on her bed. She rolled into her pillow and he covered her with a blanket. She was asleep again by the time he turned out the light. She was sleeping so soundly she didn't hear her phone when it rang in the night.

**=^..^=**

Someone was knocking on the door.

Quinn cracked one eye open and squinted at the clock. It was just shy of 7 AM and someone was knocking on their front door.

"Noah!" she yelled, but the house remained silent. Silent except for the incessant knocking. Tap, tap, tap. It was quicker now, not quite pounding, but definitely harder and louder.

Grunting, she kicked off the covers, accidentally tumbling Mojo into the floor with a squeak. He scooted under the bed and growled menacingly.

"Sorry, sorry," she muttered as she stumbled bleary-eyed out of the room, She didn't bother with formalities such as shoes. Or pants. She fumbled to the front door, muttering obscenities, and yanked it open.

"What in the..." she blustered, but a blur of bright color, perfume, and soft lips on hers cut her off.

"God, Quinn," Rachel muttered, tangling into her. "You smell so good. I've missed... mmm, this. You, I miss you."

Quinn blinked hard, trying to get her bearings and be an active participant.

"I can't stay," Rachel whined, her hands touching places. "I just needed this...mmm, and this. I'm so, so sorry...I'm late. I can't be late. I'm...gonna...mmm, go."

"Just wait, no wait. Come back... here," Quinn insisted, grabbing at the little brunette who was already pulling away from her. "No, no, no, come...here."

She pulled Rachel hard back against her.

"Quinn, I...I'm so...late," Rachel protested weakly. She easily allowed Quinn to hold her and melted at her touch. "Oh, that's...mmm."

Awake, Quinn now took advantage of the unexpected wake up call, letting her hands slide down Rachel's back and her mouth up her neck.

"Come back to bed with me, chickadee," she whispered against Rachel's ear. "Let me show you how much I miss you."

Rachel's eyes widened and she whimpered, rocking anxiously on the balls of her feet.

"Quinn," she hemmed, conflicted. "I, I can't."

Quinn growled as she slid her hands down cupping Rachel's behind and tucking their hips together.

"Yes, stay," she insisted, finding her mouth again and smothering any further protests. Rachel slipped her arms around Quinn's neck. She squeaked when Quinn gripped her thighs and lifted her off her feet. Quinn kicked the door closed and walked a few feet to the couch. She put Rachel down and eased on top of her.

"I can't do this," Rachel insisted meekly as Quinn's lips and hands roamed over her, loosening clothing and finding bare skin. "Santana says...it's...important that I show I'm …a professional. Oh...god."

Quinn kissed the base of her throat and felt Rachel swallow hard against her lips.

"Santana says..." Rachel repeated softly, moaning as Quinn nipped at her gently. "She says if I want..."

"Mmm hmm," Quinn agreed.

She pulled her tongue up the side of Rachel's neck and took her earlobe between her teeth, tugging.

"She...she..." Rachel stammered. "I'm..."

Quinn pulled back and looked at her.

"Twenty minutes," she teased. "I want twenty minutes."

"Um...what if I...maybe just..." Rachel babbled. "Will you...do the..."

Quinn pressed their lips together, nibbling at first, then she slipped her tongue into Rachel's mouth. Rachel moaned and went limp. She purred when Quinn eased her hand down the front of her dress and into her bra.

Twenty five minutes later the front door opened and Quinn pushed Rachel out onto the porch. Rachel walked a few wobbly steps down the sidewalk before she hesitated, spun on her heel and ran back, throwing herself at Quinn. Giggling, Quinn caught her and kissed her deeply while walking them out onto the porch.

"What must the neighbors think?" she wondered aloud, grinning. Rachel's laughter echoed around them. "Mmmm, you have to stop kissing me."

"Never," Rachel said. She swept her tongue across Quinn's lower lip to make her point. "Let's go back inside.

"Seriously, you have to go," Quinn insisted firmly, forcing a clutching, pouting, whimpering Rachel to arms length away from her. She knew if Rachel didn't leave soon it was likely they'd both be naked on the front lawn. Rachel groaned dramatically.

Quinn smoothed her hands over the creases in Rachel's bright floral dress and raked her fingers through her tousled hair. Deciding she looked presentable, she spun her around, aimed her at the driveway, and sent her on her way with a gentle shove and a lingering pat on her shapely ass. Rachel made it further on this attempt before she paused.

"No, don't you even think about it," Quinn yelled. "Go on."

Rachel hemmed and rocked, conflicted.

"Seriously, Rachel, go," Quinn scolded. "But drive carefully."

Rachel took a staggered half step, then another and finally put her hand on the car door. Using it as an anchor, she forced herself to get inside the vehicle.

Leaning against the door frame, Quinn watched until she was certain Rachel wasn't going to backtrack before she went back inside. She approached Noah's door, rapped lightly, and opened it quietly. The room was strangely tidy and empty.

_Where was he off to so early? _

She mulled the possibilities as she slipped back into own room. Deciding it didn't matter, she dove back into her bed and burrowed beneath the cool covers, closing her eyes. She'd hoped to find sleep easily, but quickly realized she wasn't alone. Rachel was everywhere for her now, her scent, her taste – on her skin, on her clothes. She could still feel the press of her body up against hers, shuddering beneath her.

And her hands... Rachel's hands. She retraced their path over her body again in her mind.

"Oh my god," Rachel blurted out between Quinn's fervent kisses. " That felt so...good. You have no idea...how much...I needed that."

Quinn only chuckled and teased her fingers across the damp skin on the back of Rachel's neck. Given how quickly everything progressed, it was obvious. A lot of serious kissing, some groping and a little strategic hard grinding on Quinn's part had Rachel quaking and moaning loud enough to wake the neighbors.

"I think I've got a pretty good idea," Quinn said, nuzzling her lips again her chin. "And you've still got time on the clock."

Rachel laughed.

"I'd ask if we could just stay like this," she wished quietly. "But I'm afraid I'd fall asleep."

"That would be okay," Quinn mused, kissing her nose and then her brow. "This is very comfortable. We can stay this way. I'll fall asleep on top of you if you want."

"I love you," Rachel whispered.

"I...I...I'm..." Quinn stuttered dumbly in response and she finally tumbled out, "I'm really happy you're here."

She pulled away and groaned inwardly at how feeble that sounded. She still wasn't used to saying it back.

"Me, too," Rachel agreed, unfazed. "Tick tock."

She stroked Quinn's face, rose up and caught her lips and pulled her easily back down. Quinn felt Rachel's fingers skim under her shirt and across her bare stomach. Impulsively, moving quickly before she could think about it, she broke their kiss and pulled her shirt off over her head.

"Less than ten minutes," she told her, smirking. "No unnecessary distractions."

"Oh, uh huh, uh huh," Rachel agreed excitedly, reaching out with both hands, her eager, trembling fingers smoothing across Quinn's bare skin. This was more than she dared to hope for – Quinn practically naked, on top of her, letting her do...things. She tried to play it calm, but her breath betrayed her.

Quinn watched through half-lidded eyes as Rachel traded fingertips for lips. At the first touch of her tongue, she moaned and closed her eyes.

"Let me stay with you today," Rachel asked, feathering licks and soft kisses across her chest. "Please."

"Mmmm, no," Quinn answered lazily. "No, we both promised San. We've been doing... "

Rachel groaned and bit down on a tight nipple.

"So...good," Quinn hissed. She threaded her fingers through Rachel's thick hair.

_To hell with Santana_, she thought as Rachel painted circles with her tongue. Her head dropped back. _Rachel was getting really good at that. In fact, so good she might..._

Inexplicably, Rachel stopped suddenly.

"No," Quinn pleaded before she could stop herself. She pulled at her. "Rachel, don't."

"You know what?" Rachel observed, her eyes flashing, her mouth an angry line. "It's all well and good for Santana. She...she still gets to spend her time with Brittany."

Before Quinn could respond, Rachel was kissing her forcefully, a hand cupped over her breast, squeezing. At least she was touching her again.

"Mmm, yeah," Quinn mumbled in agreement. "Whatever you say."

She was so lost in how good it felt she failed to notice Rachel's free hand skimming deliberately down her stomach, lower, and lower, until it came to rest softly between her thighs. It wasn't until Rachel groaned deeply and squeezed that Quinn realized what was happening. Her mind seized up as her body reacted. Her breath shuddered as her stomach tightened and her hips thrust against Rachel's eager fingers.

_Ohgod, ohgod, ohmygod, yes, yes, Another few inches and she would be...wait, nnn..n...nnoooo. _

She gasped and quickly reached down, pulling Rachel's hand away gently.

"Rachel," she husked, her senses still reeling. "No, it's... we can't..."

"Why? Did I do something wrong?" Rachel asked, her voice anxious.

Quinn couldn't find the words she needed. She leaned her forehead down against Rachel's while trailing her fingers across Rachel's lips to quiet her.

"It's...it's too hard to..." she blurted finally.

Rachel made a tiny broken sound that cut Quinn to the core.

"You didn't do anything wrong." she added quickly. "I just, I just wasn't expecting...that."

"I thought you'd like it," Rachel offered timidly. "I mean, you've touched me..."

Quinn scoffed – a quick, sharp exhale. Rachel moved beneath her, trying to move away, but Quinn pressed her weight against her, pinning her.

"I did, I do, like it, I mean, " she reassured her, stroking her fingers through her hair. "I do. I promise. It's just... another time."

She held Rachel's eyes with her own.

"It's alright, chickadee," she insisted, kissing her clumsily because she wasn't sure what else to do. "I promise."

Feeling entirely inadequate and vulnerable, Quinn felt around for her shirt, then raised up and tugged it over her head hoping it would help. It did, at least a little. She knew how it probably looked to Rachel, but she couldn't help it. As predicted, she saw that Rachel was staring at her expectantly. She scrubbed her hands over her face and through her messy hair stalling, looking for words that weren't there.

"As much as a I hate to say this," she suggested gently. "I think you better get go."

Rachel's frown deepened as her mouth worked, her lips pressing and un-pressing, but nothing came out. Quinn growled. She knew that expression.

"Rachel," she fretted, raising her hands up, then letting them fall. "What? Just say it."

"I just... I don't understand," she admitted. Her nervous fingers found Quinn's shirt and tugged at it. "If you like it, you know, when I do that why can't we just...I mean, I want us to..."

Quinn fell forward, leaning on her hands, staring down into Rachel's face. It shocked her into silence.

"Rachel," Quinn huffed, enunciating each word. "It's not that simple..."

"Unless you're lying and you don't...like it," Rachel interrupted, now determined to finish her point. "You can tell me, you know. If I'm not doing it right or you don't...like don't have to be nice. I'm not as fragile as you seem to..."

"Listen to me," Quinn snapped and Rachel's mouth closed instantly.

"Just the thought of you touching me like that drives me crazy," she explained. "Totally. Utterly. Crazy. Trust me, I liked it. I really, really liked it."

She stared hard at her.

"You touched me, Rachel," she said slowly. "You have to _know_ that I liked it."

Rachel's eyes darted around and she bit her lip.

"Don't you?" Quinn asked directly.

Rachel nodded.

"I want us to be together, I mean, really together...but this certainly isn't the time and there's still the whole...as long as he's still...I can't, Rachel. I know you don't understand, but I just can't."

There was a tense, awkward silence.

"So not now?" Rachel asked trying to smooth over the tension.

"No, not now," Quinn repeated, closing her eyes in resignation.

Rachel's eyes darted over Quinn's face, her mind working furiously.

"But...sometime?" she asked plaintively.

Quinn laughed in spite of herself.

"Yes, Rachel, sometime," she assured her. "Sometime."

The look on Rachel's face said she still wasn't finished yet.

"Soon?" Rachel asked.

"That's up to you, Rachel," Quinn said, forcing her to hear the truth. "It all depends on you."

Rachel scowled, clearly not happy to have the ball pushed back in her hands. Quinn found it frustrating and adorable. She grunted loudly, cupped Rachel's face with both hands and kissed her. Rachel parted her lips, her tongue shyly asking for more. Quinn grinned and obliged her, channeling her own frustration back until Rachel was once again breathing hard into her neck and digging her fingers into her shoulders.

"So... worth...being late," Rachel panted out. "Oh yes, Quinn...Quinn...almost."

She whined.

Quinn pushed her knee up firmly between Rachel's thighs, rocking it until it sent her tumbling over with a squeak and deep loud moan.

"I love when you do that," she whispered into her ear, holding her as she shuddered. "I love hearing you...I love making you... I love..."

Rachel's lips cut her off.

What was that irritating noise? It sounded like... the garbage disposal.

Quinn's eyes forced their way open. She was hugging her pillow. She could hear Puck moving around in the kitchen.

"I love...you, Rachel," she said quietly into the darkness of her room.

She reached for her phone.

**=^..^=**

Rachel glanced at her phone and wondered how Santana could seem irritated even when it was only her name flashing on caller I.D.

"Yes, I know," Rachel said, not bothering with formalities such as greetings. "I'm late. I'm late and it's unprofessional and totally irresponsible. I have no excuse. I apologize and promise to do better."

Her mea culpa was met with stunned silence.

"Well, alright then. Just as long you know," Santana mustered finally. "So get here already."

"Almost there," she lied. "Traffic. Whatnot."

Rachel hung up before Santana could rally and launch into a tirade. She reached up and turned the rear view mirror down, inspecting her face, stretching to see if Quinn had left any tell-tale marks. She didn't see any but made a mental note to double-check when she arrived.

Given how late she was, it surprised her how strangely calm she felt. Normally such things had her in a near panic, but today she was calm, collected, even confident.

What did flustered her, however, was mentally reliving her 22 minutes in heaven with Quinn. It was hard to forget that less than an hour ago she was sprawled on Quinn's couch, writhing and panting beneath her. That was worth enduring the wrath of Santana Lopez any day.

Her phone rang again. This time she saw Quinn's name light up and she smiled.

"Hello you," she said happily. "I was just thinking about you and, well, stuff."

"I forgot something," Quinn said. "You left too quickly."

Rachel laughed.

"If by 'too quickly' you mean you shoved me out of the house and practically goosestepped me to the car," she corrected. "Then yes, I guess I did."

Quinn huffed.

"Like I said," Quinn repeated. "You left too quickly."

"The infamous Fabray semantics," Rachel teased. "What did you forget?"

"I love you," Quinn said easily.

"Oh, that," she replied. Quinn could tell she was smiling.

"Tired of hearing it already?" Quinn teased lightly.

"Not even close," Rachel insisted. "It will never get old."

Quinn hummed.

"Maybe I should come back," Rachel offered. "So you can tell me in person."

Quinn didn't answer right away. Rachel could tell she was debating the idea – no doubt talking herself out of it.

"Tempting," she finally admitted. "Except I think Santana would probably kill us both."

"At least we could die together," Rachel offered optimistically.

"Mmm, no," Quinn answered. "I'm in it for the long run."

"Really, huh," Rachel answered blithely. "I see."

"Or at least until I get to kiss between your thighs," Quinn added.

She heard Rachel gasp. It was followed by the blaring of a car horn, the squeal of tires and a muffled, brief exchange of what sounded like profanity.

"Problem?" Quinn asked.

"Reckless driver," Rachel answered nonplussed. She eased to a red light stop at an intersection. "So, you were saying?"

"I was saying it was nice spending time with you this morning, Ms. Berry," Quinn said.

Rachel giggled.

"Maybe you could come by later, say dinnerish?" Quinn suggested. "We could watch old movies or something."

Rachel bit her lip and hemmed.

"Quinn, I...I would...but I...," she fumbled ineptly.

"Stop, don't," Quinn said. "I'm sorry."

"No, no... I want to," Rachel said. "You know I want to...I just...can't. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Rachel, Rachel," Quinn interrupted. "No more apologies. It's fine. I understand."

"Quinn," Rachel said, whimpering, her frustration evident.

"No, we're not going to do this," Quinn reasoned. "We'll get through this. It's just...what can I say, you spoiled me today with all your sneaky sexy ways."

Rachel sighed.

"I'll come back," she said. "Right now. This minute. I swear I will."

"No, no, go forth and...learn stuff. Be amazing. It's all good," Quinn urged. "You have a great day. Oh, and please drive carefully."

Rachel opened her mouth to reply, but Quinn had already hung up. Rachel leaned her head back against the headrest and exhaled deeply.

"Someday, Quinn Fabray," she said aloud, her thoughts lost in Quinn's arms.

The blare of an angry horn snapped her back to reality. She stepped on the gas and gunned the car through the green light, but only after pausing briefly to mutter "asshole" and flip off the impatient driver behind her.

Her phone trilled again and she snatched it up fully expecting it be either Quinn or Santana. Instead, she saw Finn's name on the screen and groaned. She debated whether or not to answer it. With Quinn's words echoing in her head she ultimately decided this was something she needed to quit avoiding and accepted the call.

"Yes," she said, her tone frosty, her words short.

"Finally," he whined right off the bat. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to reach you lately?"

"What do you want, Finn?" she asked pointedly, hoping to avoid explanations and small talk.

"I've been calling and calling you," he continued, completely missing her mood.

"I have caller I.D and voice mail, Finn. You've called twice," she corrected. "Once in the middle of the night and once when I was in the middle of something. So I repeat, what do you want?"

Finn wasn't used to her being so abrupt and it baffled him. He couldn't decide how to approach her.

"Jason called me," he said.

He paused, waiting to get her reaction before he continued. Jason Fisher was their agent. At least he used to be their agent. He called Finn and, during the course of the conversation, mentioned that Rachel had shown up in his office a little over a week ago and, basically, fired him.

Finn felt completely blindsided by the news. He couldn't believe Rachel would do such a thing and without talking to him first. It was completely out of character for her. It put him in a doubly-awkward position because Jason was a family friend and Finn had encouraged him to sign Rachel in the first place. He was certain his father would hear about it eventually.

"Oh, I see," Rachel said.

She knew this would happen. Frankly, she was surprised it hadn't happened sooner.

"Look, Finn," she said calmly. "I called you, remember? I said there was a lot going on and I needed to speak to you. That was one of the things I meant."

"He says that you fired him," Finn said. "Is that true?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes, I supposed it is," Rachel admitted.

"Why would you do such a thing?" Finn asked. "I mean, Jason is a great guy."

"He is a great guy," Rachel agreed. "But, as far as my career was concerned, he wasn't really such a great agent."

"I don't understand," Finn said thickly. Rachel could almost see the expression on his face – mouth gaping slightly, eyes squinted in confusion – it was one she knew it well.

"Look, Finn, I don't want to discuss this now. I'm already late, " she implored. "We'll talk it over when you come back. "

"What am I supposed to tell Jason?" he asked, ignoring her request.

"Why do you have to tell Jason anything?" Rachel asked, confused. "There isn't anything more to say about it. It's done.

"Well I said I'd fix it," Finn explained.

"There's nothing to 'fix,' Finn" she said angrily. "I just told you, it's done."

"But he's 'our' guy," Finn whined.

"No," she said slowly. "He's your 'guy' now, Finn. I think I've told you that about three times now."

"But you didn't ask me about it," he simpered. "I mean, you just went ahead and did it."

"That's right, I did," she said through gritted teeth. "As I've said, there are things going on, changes being made. That was one of them."

"So there are more...things?" he asked warily.

"Yes, Finn, there are more things," she snapped, hoping he'd drop the conversation. She really didn't want to have it over the phone.

"I can't believe you would just do something like that, Rachel," he said. His voice had the same disappointed tone as a parent scolding a small child. "What were you thinking?"

"Enough, Finn, I mean it," she warned, her temper getting the better of her. "I'm late, I'm stressed, and, quite frankly, I'm not interested in debating this with you any longer. It's done, finished, end of story."

"So what do I tell Jason?" he repeated like a broken record. "I have to tell him something."

"I don't care," she said honestly. "I don't care what you tell him because it isn't going to change anything. He's been replaced."

Finn sighed heavily.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't even..."

"What, Finn, what?" she asked tersely. "You don't even what?"

"I don't know," he said quickly. "Nothing, never mind."

Rachel pulled into the parking space and put her car in park.

"Finn, I have to go," she said. "When are you coming back?"

"Soon," he said evasively. "I'm not really sure. They may run long here – lots of script changes. A lot re-shooting going on."

That was a flat-out lie and she knew it. Santana had already told her the production was ahead of schedule and looking to wrap up filming in less than a week. She was tempted to call him on it, but she didn't want to risk any more time on the phone fighting with him.

"Whatever," she said. "Call me when you get back."

She hung up. She was so angry now she was shaking. She hated that he could still make her so upset, but she couldn't dwell on it. She gathered up her things and dashed out the door.

**=^..^=**

Quinn stumbled through the front office door and collapsed in the nearest chair with a groan. She was hot, tired and covered in dust and spiderwebs. The last two hours had been spent crawling around on her stomach pushing cat traps under their new client's massive wooden deck in the hopes of catching their runaway cat. That, in and of itself, would have been fine, except Quinn knew it was wasted effort.

By day the small silver tabby was nowhere to be found, but at night it was sneaking back to eat the food left out for it. The family caught glimpses of it several times on their security camera but had no success trying to catch it themselves. After five days of dealing with crying children and a nagging wife, the husband had been forced to summon reinforcements to help.

That didn't mean he was happy about it and he went out of his way to make certain Quinn knew that. She suspected the cat was spending its days sleeping up in one of the trees that lined the family's backyard, This was contrary to the husband's stubborn belief that it was holed up under the newly constructed deck that spanned the back of the house. In an effort to prove her theory, Quinn thoroughly scoped under the deck with a video camera and showed him there was no place for the cat to hide, but he still adamantly insisted she lay traps for it.

Quinn shrugged it off. As long as his checks continued to clear, she would lay traps anywhere he wanted. She took some small measure of satisfaction in telling him no baited trap would ever work unless his wife and kids quit leaving food out and that it would be up to him to get them to stop. She laughed to herself again remembering the look of terror that crossed his face.

Brittany cleared her throat loudly and Quinn glanced at her.

"Are we hiring?" she asked.

"Who?" Quinn asked with a blank expression, her frazzled thoughts interrupted.

"Are we hiring?" she repeated slowly. "Like, you know, new people?"

Quinn scoffed.

"Not really," she said. "I mean, no – not unless you want me to stop paying the old people."

She pointed to herself and then to Brittany.

"Oh," Brittany said, her lips drooping down in disappointment.

"Why do you ask?" Quinn ventured boldly, her curiosity peaked. Knowing Brittany, she might have some elaborate plans for adding Crackers to their tiny crew.

"This fish guy came in today and asked if we knew anyone who needed a fish guy," she said. "I liked him. He was nice."

"You mean like a guy selling fish?" Quinn asked.

Brittany loved talking to salesmen. They thought it was great as well, at least right up until they figured out she wasn't just making polite small talk and they were never going to get past her to make a sale.

"No, you know, a fish guy," she repeated. "He and his girlfriend came in to see if we could recommend any fishy-type places that might be hiring and I was talking to him about my octopussy theories. He was very impressed. I thought he might work here with us."

"People tend not to lose their fish too often, B," Quinn pointed out, chuckling.

"Oh, I know," she agreed, nodding. "But I was thinking maybe we could make it a...side dish."

"A side dish?" Quinn repeated, squinting at her.

"Yeah, like when you order something in a restaurant. How you get a main thing and then you get to pick extra things to go with it," she explained.

"You mean make it a side business?" Quinn asked.

"Yeah, a side dish," Brittany repeated. "Like peas. Only this would be fish. Or you could just order the fish by itself on a cart."

"Ala carte," Quinn corrected, catching on to the twisted logic.

Even as tired as she was Quinn realized this made sense. In fact, it was a really good idea. That fact that Brittany had thought of it before any of the rest of them frightened her.

"I don't know very much about fish, Brit," she admitted, poking cautious holes in her balloon before she could get too worked up over it. "Like, practically nothing. Besides, I don't know if we would find enough work for him."

"You go with Puck sometimes to that house in Malibu," she reminded her. "That's fishy."

"But that's only now and then," she said. "And I just feed the fish. He has a regular guy who goes out and does the tanks and pond and stuff."

"And you go because that regular fishy guy gets too busy, right?" Brittany pointed out reasonably. "So now we could have our own fishy guy that could get too busy."

"Hmmm," Quinn said, holding her thoughts.

"I'll bet San could get him to change to our fishy guy," Brittany added eagerly. "If we had one."

"Maybe I should at least talk to him." Quinn suggested.

Brittany smiled and handed her a pink sticky note with smiling fish drawn all over it and an octopus talking a on a telephone with phone number scribbled in the center. Quinn glanced at it.

"It says 'Fishy Dude.' Do you know his name?" Quinn asked hopefully.

Brittany shook her head.

"Whose name?" Puck asked walking in from the back room.

"The fish guy," Brittany told him.

"What fish guy?" he asked looking at Quinn. "Are we getting a fish guy?"

"He's gonna be like peas," Brittany said. "On a cart."

"Piss on a cart? What the hell?" Puck asked, his face a scowl of confusion.

Quinn groaned.

"Hey, you have a spider in your hair," Puck said, nodding his chin at her. "Big gross mother."

"Right, sure I do," Quinn responded, rolling her eyes. "Like I'm falling for that."

Brittany went wide-eyed and pointed at her, nodding.

Quinn jumped up, swatting at her head with both hands. She knocked the spider in the floor and promptly stomped on it. Brittany opened her mouth to protest, but one look from Quinn silenced her. Puck touched Quinn lightly on the back of her neck. She screamed, then shuddered and started shaking her shirt. He snickered into his hand. Brittany opened her mouth to tattle and he glared hard at her.

"Gahhhh," Quinn spat loudly and stalked towards her office.

"Call the fishy guy," Brittany called after her. She puffed out her lip when she heard the door slam shut.

Quinn pulled her shirt off and shook it out thoroughly. She took down her ponytail and raked a brush roughly through her hair. Satisfied that she was arachnid-free, she fell into her chair and put her head down on the desk. Her cell phone tweeted and she whimpered. When she picked it up she was surprised to see it was Santana and drug it over to her ear.

"Why are you calling this phone?" she asked brusquely.

"Because Brit was afraid to put my call through," she said angrily. "Says you're on a rampage. What did you do?"

"Nothing, she's mad because I stepped on a spider," Quinn explained. "Why are you calling me? What's wrong?"

Santana laughed.

"Nothing's wrong. Rachel needs a play date," she said brightly. "Tag, you're it."

Quinn was immediately on her guard. It had been three days since she'd last heard from Rachel and now here was Santana suddenly wanting them spending time together.

"A play date for what?" she asked suspiciously. "What are you up to?"

"She's been working really hard," she said. "I think she needs a reward."

"A reward? So I'm like a fucking carnival prize?" she protested. "Go to class, get a Quinn date. Nuh huh, not interested. Rachel doesn't even know about this, does she?"

"Oh come on," Santana pleaded, ignoring the accusation. "You know you want to. You're just being stubborn."

"No, I'm serious, San," Quinn said, sitting back in her chair, swiveling slightly. "I'm not letting you start with this crap. In fact, I'll bet you've hit on something Rachel won't do and you want to use me as leverage."

This accusation met with stony silence.

"Ha!" Quinn said sharply, slapping her hand on her desk. "See, I knew it."

"It's not like it isn't a win-win," Santana argued, forcing Quinn to roll her eyes. "Everybody gets what they want. You, Rachel, mainly, me."

"No, it isn't," she replied coldly. " You get what you want. Meanwhile Rachel and I get jerked around. As much as I want to see Rachel, nope – I'm not playing."

Santana grunted her disapproval.

"Also, fair warning – if you give Rachel an inch she'll take it and run for the end zone. She'll never stop asking for stuff once you go down this road."

Santana huffed loudly in frustration and Quinn couldn't help smirking.

"I gotta admit," she confessed. "I'm impressed you've gone this long without a meltdown."

"No meltdown has been had," Santana insisted, getting defensive. "Just some, um,...resistance."

Quinn was intrigued and debated whether to ignore her instincts and satisfy her curiosity or just stay the hell out of it.

"I thought you had this all figured out," she teased instead. "Just make her mad – tell her she can't do it. Rachel Berry 101, remember."

Santana hissed and Quinn could hear her pounding her stapler angrily.

"Maybe she just needs to get laid," Santana suggested in a low voice. "That might calm her down."

"Santana!" Quinn snapped. "Stop. Seriously, enough."

"Yup," Santana smirked, pleased to have touched a nerve. "I knew it. Maybe you could just fing..."

Quinn pressed END and smacked the phone down on the desk. When it rang again she opened a drawer and was about to sweep it inside when she saw Rachel's name.

"Hey," she said, picking up quickly.

"I can't do this anymore," Rachel said, her breath coming in short, erratic bursts. "I can't. I can't. I just can't."

She wasn't crying, but she wasn't far from it. Quinn sighed heavily.

"I hate Santana. I hate these stupid things I'm doing," she ranted, clearly working herself up into a full-blown fit. "I hate not being able to see you when I want. I hate Finn. I hate that we don't have ..."

"There was a spider in my hair," Quinn said, looking to diffuse the emotional bomb.

"What?" Rachel asked, caught off guard by the random comment. "What did you said?"

"I said there was a spider in my hair today when I came back to the office," Quinn repeated calmly. "A big yellow and black spider."

"Eww, why?" Rachel asked.

"Because I spend the afternoon crawling around under a deck," she explained. "Putting out traps that won't work."

"Did it bite you?" Rachel asked. "Are you allergic?"

"No, it didn't," Quinn confirmed. "I'm fine."

"Oh good," Rachel said, clearly relieved. "You really should carry an Epi Pen. Just as a precaution. I'm going to get you one and a one of those medic alert bracelets, just in case."

"God, no, Rachel, don't do that," Quinn said urgently.

"You should get rabies shots,too. As a precaution. I'm going to take you on my next day off," she said. Quinn could hear her tapping into her phone, making herself a note.

Quinn wasn't really too worried about it. Rachel didn't _have _days off.

"I'm not doing that," Quinn said quietly, knowing she was talking to herself.

"I'll call my personal physician," Rachel continued. "I wonder if your business insurance will cover it."

"I'm not doing that," Quinn said again.

"I've heard they really hurt though," Rachel said, clearly concerned. "But it's better to be safe than sorry. I'll hold your hand."

"And for the third time, I'm not doing that," Quinn repeated.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, refocusing her attention. "What did you say?"

"So you were telling me..." Quinn said, but Rachel interrupted her.

"Why won't they work?" she asked. "The traps, why won't they work?"

"Because – they just won't," Quinn answered, hoping to avoid a lengthy explanation. "I tried to tell this to the client, but he wouldn't listen and so I put out a bunch of traps that will stay empty and I'll just have to change them out every day. It just sucks. So that's been my crappy day."

"I'm sorry. Maybe one will work," she offered, her tone cheery. "I'll bet one will work. I know it will."

Quinn scoffed lightly.

"You'll go out there tomorrow and there will be a cat in one," she insisted. "I know it. I mean, after all, you are the cat's meow."

"Not really," Quinn admitted. "Only sometimes. Mostly when there's a pretty brunette involved."

"Have I met her yet?" Rachel teased.

"Doubt it," Quinn answered. "She doesn't come around very often these days."

"Please don't remind me," she fretted.

"What's the matter, chickadee?" Quinn asked.

"Nothing," she answered quickly. Too quickly. "It's no big deal, really. I'm just...I'm just tired. That's all."

"Can I fix it?" Quinn offered and Rachel smiled.

"You just did," she told her.

"Somehow I doubt that," Quinn chided..

"No, really," Rachel insisted. "It's better now."

"Rachel," Quinn scolded.

"No, I mean it," she said. "I'm okay. Sometimes it all just gets, I don't know, overwhelming, I guess."

Quinn ran her hands through her hair. She felt helpless and angry and was trying not to take it out on Rachel.

"Don't lie to me," she warned gently.

"I'm not," she said, her voice hollow. "I wouldn't. I just...I think I just needed to hear your voice."

"Where are you?" Quinn asked and Rachel chuckled, reading her thoughts.

"No," she said. "Don't."

"Why not?" Quinn teased. "Let me come see you."

"There's no time," Rachel explained. "I would love that though. You have no idea."

"I think I do," Quinn said, her voice dropping lower. "I miss you, chickadee."

"I miss you, too, " she said. "Just...wait...no, no I'm..."

Quinn heard rustling and then muffled conversation. It sounded like she had put her phone up against her chest.

"God, Quinn, I have to go," she said, her reluctance evident. "Maybe I can call you again...after or..."

"Whatever you need, sweetie," Quinn told her.

Rachel whined quietly.

"Chin up, little songbird, " Quinn said, hoping she sounded like she meant it.

"I love you," Rachel told her.

"Me, too," Quinn answered. "Me, too."

"Quinn?" she said suddenly.

"Yeah, sweetie," Quinn answered promptly.

"Don't tell Santana I said I hate her, okay?" Rachel asked intently. "I really didn't mean it."

"I won't say anything," she promised.

"Bye," she said. "Wait, don't close it – I'm coming right now.

She could hear Rachel's heels clicking as she hurried off and the connection ended. Quinn sat holding her phone, staring at the wall.

_I hate that we don't have sex._ Quinn wondered if that's what Rachel was going to say. She was still wondering when the door burst open and she jumped back.

"About this fish dude, whoa," Puck said, then stopped, staring. Quinn didn't bother to try to cover herself.

"Yes?" she asked, annoyed.

"Uh, am I interrupting anything?" he asked. "You weren't, like, having phone sex were you?"

She realized she was still holding the phone and jammed it into her pocket.

"Oh now you care. No, I wasn't – not that it's any of you business," she snapped. "Try knocking, Puck."

"But then I don't get to see your hot lingerie," he snickered.

"Really?" she asked snidely. "We live together, Puck. Once upon a time we even... oh, just grow up."

She grabbed her shirt and pull it on.

"There, can you think now?" she groused. "What do you want?"

"Fish dude," he picked up the conversation again without missing a beat. "I think we should call him."

She shoved Brittany's note at him.

"Here, have at it," she remarked. "Just don't make any promises. I mean it, not about anything. I don't care if the guy's last name is Cousteau, we talk first, do you understand me?"

She pointed back and forth between the two of them to reinforce her point.

"Yeah, sure, we talk, whatever. So, I was also wondering," he said slowly, digging his toe into the carpet.

"What?" she finally asked.

"Sam," he said, and looked up at her expectantly.

"Oh hell no," she said and started to get up. He pushed her back down.

"Just hear me out," he said, sitting on the corner of her desk, trapping her. She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever it is, no," she repeated. "I can't deal with him underfoot."

"That wouldn't be because he's all moon-eyed over a certain actress would it?" he asked.

"No, it would not," she grunted.

"Uh huh," he said.

"Don't you have enough to worry about?" she asked. "I thought you were trying to get out of here? What happened to that five-year food truck plan? Why are you empire building here all the sudden?"

He shrugged.

"The food truck plan is still go," he admitted. "I just think – I mean, there's no reason why I can't help build this place up while I'm still around. And yes, I have some ideas."

"Oh hell," she groaned and dropped her head in her hands.

"No, seriously, " he insisted. "I'm not fooling around. I have some ideas – real good ideas. I think we should talk about them."

She held up her hand, motioning for him to get out.

"Later, " she said. "After I've had a shower, maybe a sandwich, a nap even."

"Fine," he agreed, standing up. He held up his hands as if surrendering. "No pressure, no rush. I just – I just wanted to put it out there. You know where you can find me."

She laughed wryly.

"Okay, okay, " he relented. "I'm gonna go make this call. We'll talk later – when you're a little more receptive to things."

She nodded and heard the office door close behind him.

She hid in her office for the rest of the day with the door locked.

**=^..^=**

It was almost midnight when the doorbell rang. Quinn, who was stretched out on the couch reading, jumped at the sound and frowned. Loki and Mojo, who were lounging at opposite ends of the room, both seemed to vanish into thin air.

"Shit," she hissed, her heart pounding.

The bell rang again, twice in rapid succession. Pie barked warily in the back of the house. Quinn put her book down on the couch and got up.

"Thanks for fixing that peephole, Noah," she muttered crossly under her breath. She cautiously opened the door only to find Rachel standing on the porch in the dark, fretting nervously. She pulled the door open wide.

"Hey," she said, immediately concerned. "Are you okay?"

Rachel nodded, but Quinn could see she was past the point of exhaustion and barely standing.

"I was going home, but I was just so tired..." she said, her voice dull and lifeless.

"Come on, in, in," Quinn said, taking her hand and pulling her inside. She closed the door behind her and locked it. She left Rachel standing by the door and went to switch off the reading lamp.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, coming back over and taking both her hands. "Noah always has leftovers. Sit down, I'll fix you something."

"Nuh uh," she said, shaking her head. Her voice was weak.

Quinn put her arm around her waist and bent her head down so she could hear her. Her clothes were baggy everywhere. It was clear that she wasn't eating.

"Mmm, not hungry. I already ate...something." she explained. Her words slurred together as if it was too much effort to separate them.

"Sure you did," Quinn noted with a frown, pulling on her hands."Alright then, let's go, chickadee."

Rachel stumbled along behind her as she went down the hall and into Quinn's room. Once inside Quinn sat her on the bed where she sat numbly, her hands limp in her lap, as Quinn knelt and pulled off her shoes. She stood up and watched her for several minutes, waiting. When she didn't move, Quinn exhaled sharply and began to undressed her as Rachel leaned her head wearily against her.

"This is ridiculous," Quinn muttered under her voice. "I can't believe you've been driving around like this."

Quinn stripped her down to her underwear and helped her under the covers. Rachel quickly rolled away from her onto her side. Quinn sat gently smoothing her hand over her hair. When she was sure Rachel was settled, she got up and neatly folded her clothes. When she finished, she walked through the house, tidying things and locking up. She checked on Pie, who was sleeping in Noah's room so he could take him out when he came home after his bar shift. The old dog whimpered and pawed his blanket, wanting to follow her.

"Stay, sweet man," she said, tugging gently on his ears. She moved his water dish closer, turned on the desk lamp, then left, pulling the door closed behind her. She walked into her room, undressed quickly and climbed into bed beside Rachel. To her surprise, the little brunette turned over and began deliberately fluffing her fingers through her hair.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Checking for spiders," Rachel told her softly. Quinn smiled and kissed her brow.

"I'm good," she assured her. "No worries."

"Mmmmm, okay," she answered, her voice thick with sleep.

"Thank you though, "Quinn said. She stole a lingering kiss.

Rachel put her head down against Quinn's chest and pushed one hand beneath her shirt to rest on her bare stomach. "Rabies shots," she muttered, patting Quinn's belly lightly. She fell back to sleep almost instantly.

Quinn tucked her hand behind her hand and stared up at the ceiling, watching the blades of the fan spin shadows.

Everything felt oddly out of sorts. Rachel was walking around like a zombie. Noah was suddenly acting strangely responsible and Brittany was making more sense than any of them. She was still trying to figure out which concerned her the most when sleep temporarily washed them all away.

**=^..^=**

**Rachel's eyes fluttered open, then closed again. She groaned softly and stirred. It was still dark outside. She glanced to her bedside clock, but it wasn't there. Her brows knitted in confusion until she felt Quinn stir beside her and remembered where she was. Her lips softened into a smile. She turned over and her heart quickened at the sight of the lithe blonde sprawled comfortably asleep beside her. She had one hand resting on her chest and the other reaching out towards Rachel, almost grazing her thigh. Rachel settled and tucked her hand under her chin, watching her sleep – noting the rise and fall of her chest, the serene look on her face, the way her hair feathered into her eyes. She was torn, wrestling between the two voices in her head. Her mind nagged her to hurry and dress, to get out of the house without waking Quinn. Her heart, however, whispered to her. It urged her to peel away what little clothing she wore, to kiss Quinn awake, to beg her until she sent them both into a mad, tumbling frenzy of physical pleasure. **

**Quinn muttered and turned, her hand reaching for Rachel. Her eyes opened slowly and she blinked when she found her watching with a smile. **

**"****Hi," she said quietly. **

**Quinn looked at her, her eyes flickering over her, until Rachel reached out and traced her fingers down the side of her face. Quinn grabbed her hand in hers and kissed her palm. Rachel scrambled over into her and Quinn folded her arms around. Rachel's burrowed into her chest and she heard the faintest of sniffles. **

**"****I don't like it," Rachel fussed. **

**"****It'll get better," she told her, ruffling her fingers in her hair. **

**Rachel shook her head. **

**"****Everything's different," she argued, her voice breaking. **

**"****A little bit, yeah," Quinn agreed. "But just for a little while, right? So that's okay. I'm not worried." **

**"****Really?" she asked. **

**"****Really," she repeated. "It's a lot all at once, but I know you can do it."**

**"****I don't know why you do," she said dejectedly. "I don't. I feel like I'm drowning. It's too much." **

**Quinn pulled away and looked at her. **

**"****Are you being serious?" she asked her. **

**Rachel shrugged. **

**"****Look at me," Quinn said, forcing Rachel to look up at her. "Do you really mean that?" **

**Rachel blinked and Quinn could see she was trying to get a handle on her feelings. **

**"****If that's how you really feel, I want you to tell me." Quinn urged. "We'll fix it." **

**"****I just... I didn't know it would be so..." she stopped and sighed deeply. "I didn't know I'd have so much to do." **

**"****Okay," Quinn said. "But all this stuff, is it...I don't know, helping? Does it make any sense? Or are you out there just spinning wheels?" **

**"****No, it's helping," she said quickly. "I mean, it's all real. I'm learning so much. I just...I haven't had any time to process anything. And I never get to see you. I can't even tell you about it all." **

**"****Chickadee, I'm not worried about that," Quinn told her. "There will be time for that. I just...I don't want you burning yourself out. If you really need to take a step back, say so." **

**"****I...I...I don't know," she said, rubbing her eyes. "I'm so...tired I can't really think straight." **

**Her face crumpled and a quiet sob broke free. Quinn pulled her close and shushed her. **

**"****It's okay," she said, holding her until she quieted herself. "We'll work it out." **

**Rachel groan unhappily and pulled on her. Quinn pulled her up and she rested her head on her shoulder. **

**"****When do you have to leave?" Quinn asked. **

**"****It doesn't matter," she answered, biting her on the shoulder. "I need this. I need being here with you." **

**She nuzzled Quinn's neck, peppering kisses. **

**"****So stay," Quinn whispered. "Just stay." **

**She tightened her arms around her and tucked her face against hers. She held her until they both fell asleep. When she awoke again, Rachel was gone. **

**=^..^=**

**"****She's exhausted, San," Quinn said into the phone. She was trying to balance it on her shoulder and steer at the same time. She finally gave up and pulled the car over on the side of the road. "She could hardly even speak. I don't even want to think about the fact she's been driving in that state." **

**"****It's not that bad, Quinn," Santana remarked placidly. They hadn't spoken since Quinn last hung up on her and she was surprised to hear from her. "She just had a long day, that's all. There is a lot of overlap, a lot of back-to-back right now. Things will level out and she'll bounce right back. She's quite the trooper, I'll give her that. I couldn't be happier with the work she's doing. I think you'd be proud of her." **

**"****Santana," Quinn scolded. "Don't do that. Don't handle me. I don't like it when you do that shit. In fact, right now I don't like any of this. You didn't see her. I'm...worried about her. She's lifeless." **

**"****Quinn, I'm not..." she said and then stopped.**

**Santana closed her eyes and put down her pen. There was no mistaking that Quinn was concerned, seriously concerned, and also clearly being over-protective. Rachel was working hard, possibly harder than she ever had in her life, but she was an active participant, she was fully involved – she wasn't just going through the motions. **

**"****Okay, so maybe I was...a little," she confessed. "Look, I know she's tired. Hell, everybody's tired. That's just the way it is right now. We just have to soldier through it for now. It will get better." **

**Quinn scoffed. **

**"****No, I'm not buying that," Quinn disagreed. "She's exhausted. She's not eating. She's burning herself out – it's too much. Not that she would ever admit it, mind you." **

**Santana sat quietly, considering what Quinn was saying. She couldn't dismiss it – partly because there was some truth to it, but mostly because she needed to keep Quinn as a team player. **

**"****Look, I'll see what I can shift around," she offered. "No promises, okay? Some of these things are fixed, you know, they're either now or never, but I'll see if I can't maybe find a day off or something. Is that good enough?" **

**"****Yes, I think that would be...a good start," Quinn said warily. Santana was giving in very easily and that put her on her guard. Where there was give there was also probably take. **

**"****And I'll see about maybe getting her a driver," she added. "For those long days. I think I can make that happen." **

**"****That would be great," Quinn said, clearly pleased. **

**"****But I can't make her eat, Quinn," she added. "I draw the line at hand-feeding my clients." **

**Quinn chuckled. **

**"****Maybe I can fix that," she said. **

**"****Sure, you can fix her some of those sad little snack pack things," Santana suggested. "The ones with bird seed, gummy bears and unicorn poop." **

**Quinn pursed her lips. **

**"****You just had to be smart ass and fucking ruin it, didn't you?" she chided. "God forbid you just do a good deed." **

**Santana chuckled smugly. **

**"****I love it when you talk dirty," Santana teased. "It's so hot." **

**"****I need you to get me her schedule," Quinn interjected. "I want to know what those 'long days' are and when I might need to expect her to randomly appear on my doorstep." **

**"****Fine," Santana agreed, scribbling herself a reminder. "I'll wait until I've made changes." **

**"****No," Quinn interrupted. "Go ahead and send it now. You can get back to me with updates."**

**Santana's eyes rolled skyward. There was on board and there was involved – this was starting to sound very involved. A very involved Quinn was probably not a good thing. **

**"****No problem," she said, channeling her most accommodating tone. "Pulling it together now." **

**She crinkled a handful of papers next to the phone. **

**"****Q, for real, let me worry about the schedule, you worry about the off hours." Santana said, hoping to ease Quinn back into "hands off" mode. "You just worry about being the happy place." **

**Quinn scoffed loudly. **

**"****Do you hear yourself?" she asked. "I mean, really?" **

**"****Work with me here," Santana groaned, dropping her head to her desk. "This is no picnic for me either." **

**Quinn realized that was probably true and her tension lessened. **

**"****Just send me her schedule," she repeated, but her tone was much less demanding. "When you get a chance. At least that way we can all be on the same page." **

**"****No problem," Santana acknowledged and hung up quickly before Quinn could think of something else to fuss about. **

**=^..^=**

Quinn kept watching the clock, glancing at it at ten minute intervals. It was shortly after midnight when she heard the light knock on the front door. She was on her feet and moving towards it before the second knock. Rachel didn't wait to be invited inside. She walked in, kissed Quinn, and waited – rocking slightly on her toes. Quinn locked the door and came up behind her, slipping her arms around her waist.

"Hello, habit," she teased.

"I didn't want to ring the bell," she aid. "I saw Noah's truck outside."

"He sleeps like a vampire," Quinn told her. "Don't worry about him."

"Can I stay here tonight?" she asked politely. Quinn chuckled and kissed her on the temple.

"What, again?" she scoffed with mock exaggeration. Rachel leaned back into her and tipped her head against Quinn's.

"I sleep better here," she explained.

"Sure you do," Quinn said. "You can stay."

Rachel broke into a grin.

"But only if you eat something first," Quinn added and Rachel's smile faltered.

"Quinn, I'm not hungry," she fussed, but her protest fell on deaf ears. Quinn was already pushing her to the kitchen table. She pulled out a chair for her.

"Sit," she instructed firmly. Rachel plopped her bottom down and slumped like a grumpy child.

"Not too much," she said urgently, watching Quinn as she peered into the refrigerator. "I can't sleep on a full stomach."

"So you'll be awake for a little while," Quinn said with a shrug.

Rachel huffed and kicked the table leg.

"Speaking of eating," Quinn said, pulling containers out and stacking them on the counter. "Nicky is going to run away again if you keep staying over here." Rachel frowned and ignored her, staring instead at the circles she was making on the table top with her fingers.

"No he's not," she argued. "He's fine."

"I dunno," Quinn said lightly.

"Besides, he's too fat, too," Rachel muttered under her breath.

"I heard that," Quinn said. "You know, I think I'll sleep on the couch tonight."

Rachel's eyes went wide and her mouth popped open, then the petulant scowl returned.

"Fine, I don't care," she said. "You kick anyway."

Quinn smirked. She walked over and put the plate down in front of her and very deliberately added a fork.

"Eat," she scolded and kissed her head. "All of it." Rachel looked at the plate and whined.

"It's too much," she said, wrinkling her nose up. Quinn ignored her and started putting away dishes. Rachel glared at the food, then picked up her fork and began poking at it.

"What is this?" she asked.

"I don't know," Quinn said from behind the refrigerator door. "I liked it. It's good."

Rachel took a forkful and sniffed at it, then gingerly put it in her mouth. She chewed warily. Her expression warmed and she went back for another bite. After a long period of quiet Quinn glanced over and saw that she was chewing and absently twirling her fork. Quinn filled a glass of tea and joined her at the table.

"Unsweet," she said and pushed it beside her plate.

Rachel quirked her eyebrows.

"Thank you," she offered quietly, politely covering her mouth with one hand. Quinn sat down in the chair next to her. She rested her chin on her hand and watched while she ate.

"You're right," Rachel said, her fork cutting another bite. "This is good. Actually, I'm surprised you like it."

"Mmm," Quinn said. "Don't be. I lied. I never tried it."

Rachel stopped with the fork midway to her mouth. She chuckled and cut her eyes up at Quinn, who just shrugged.

"Your loss," Rachel noted and shoved the fork in her mouth.

The truth was she asked Noah to make something just in case Rachel showed up – no meat, lots of flavor, and "hell no I don't want any." In exchange, she had to sit at the table and listen to his proposal about Sam.

"With an open mind," he insisted, shaking his spatula in her face.

Now on top of everything else, she had to figure out how to keep Sam off her payroll and, at the same time, still justify adding Brittany's fish guy. She knew Noah would take it personally and very likely throw a fit that would spill over into her off hours.

"Well?" Rachel said, sounding annoyed.

Quinn looked confused until Rachel pointed to an empty plate.

"Can I stay?" she asked again.

"Gee, I don't know," Quinn said, squinting her eyes at her. Rachel scoffed and her mouth hardened.

"You said..." she began, but Quinn's hand waving cut her off.

"I know what I said, "she told her. "But I gotta check."

Rachel looked at her with a quizzical expression on her face. Quinn quirked her brow and turned Rachel's chair, then leaned her head down, listening.

"What are you doing? " Rachel asked, clearly amused.

"Shhhh," Quinn shushed her and held up a finger. "I'm listening."

They were both quiet for a few moments. Quinn began nodding.

"All clear," she said.

She lifted Rachel's shirt and planted a kiss on her bare stomach.

"No rumbling to keep me awake," she informed her, adding a quick lick across her belly button. Rachel squealed and playfully pushed Quinn away. "Since your hunger pangs won't be shaking the bed all night you can stay."

Rachel grabbed her shirt and tried to tug her back, but Quinn pulled her over into her lap instead. Rachel put both hands on Quinn's cheeks and noisily kissed her. Quinn smacked her lips.

"Mmm, you're right," she said. "That is yummy." Rachel beamed at her.

"You're not really gonna sleep on the couch are you?" she asked, uncertain.

"Only if that's where you are," she told her.

Rachel hugged her tightly.

"I love you, chickadee,' she whispered.

"D'awww. You two are so cute you're making me sick," Noah said loudly. Rachel looked up and saw him leaning against the hall wall watching them. He was shirtless and barefoot, dressed in paint-spattered cut-off sweats.

"How long have you been there?" Quinn asked, her teeth clenched.

"Since the whole belly button thing," he confessed. "Slick move, Q. I'll have to try that sometime."

Quinn growled, but Rachel squeezed her shoulders and shushed her.

"Noah," Rachel scolded, frowning at him.

"Rachel," he parroted right back and frowned back at her, then grinned. "You look very pretty," he offered as he swaggered into the kitchen and she brightened visibly at the compliment.

"Quinn, whatever," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Same," she grunted. "Go put on a damn shirt."

He pounded his fists on his bare pecs and yanked open the refrigerator. He pulled out a beer and pushed it closed.

"She made me cook for you tonight," he tattled to Rachel while twisting off the cap. Quinn groaned lightly and leaned her head into Rachel's chest.

"Oh really?" Rachel asked, trying to stop her grin. "I didn't know that."

"Yup," he continued, glad to know he was telling tales out of school. "Sure did. 'Something Rachel would like. Something special.' Those were my instructions – more or less."

Rachel purred happily, her hands petting on Quinn.

"You're so sweet," she gushed. "Isn't she sweet?"

Noah spewed beer down his chest and grabbed a dish towel to sop it up.

"So sweet," he echoed, taking another swig. Quinn glared daggers at him, hands twitching for something to throw.

"She's so – " Rachel gushed and, not finding the words, crushed her lips against Quinn's.

"Mmm mmm," Quinn started to squirm in protest until Rachel forced her tongue into her mouth. "Mmmm hmmm."

Noah choked and stared. When they showed no sign of stopping, he took his beer and wandered back down the hall. Hearing his door shut, Rachel broke away, giggling.

"Guess that shut him up," she observed wickedly. A breathless Quinn could only nod in agreement. "I don't care what anyone says – you are sweet." Quinn groaned and Rachel silenced her with a new kiss that quickly turned into a stifled yawn. It was followed by another and soon they both were yawning.

"Bedtime," Rachel announced, her eyes struggling to stay open.

"Go on," Quinn encouraged as she nudged her up off her lap. "I'll be right there."

"Yay," Rachel cheered weakly. She hurried off down the hall while Quinn cleared the table and put the rest of the food away. She turned out lights as she walked down the hall. Once inside her room, she shut the door. There was a small pile of clothes on the floor and Rachel was already under the covers. Loki was stretched out beside her and lifted his head when Quinn approached. He hissed softly

"She's not yours," she warned him quietly and he slow blinked at her. He didn't make another sound when she sat on the foot of the bed and began kneading his paws against Rachel's thigh instead.

Quinn picked up Rachel's clothes and began folding them. She realized there were a lot of items in the pile – a few too many. To make up for it, she left on her yoga pants and t-shirt and got under the covers. She pulled the sheet up to her chin and settled into her pillow. It didn't surprise her when Rachel moved closer.

"You're too far away," she murmured, sliding over beside her, snuggling against her. Quinn heard Loki trill in protest.

"Your little friend isn't too happy now," Quinn muttered. Rachel reached behind her and rubbed her fingers under the cat's chin until he started purring.

"See all better," she said, pulling her hand away. Loki swatted at it, but missed.

"Why are you so dressed?" she fussed.

"Because you aren't," she countered.

Rachel chucked softly.

"I like how your sheets feel," she reasoned.

"Hmmm," Quinn replied, her hand running down Rachel's bare back. She was definitely topless. "I like how you feel."

This prompted another contented chuckle from Rachel.

"I wish I wasn't so sleepy," she remarked.

"Oh, why is that?" Quinn teased, trailing her fingers in light circles.

"No reason," Rachel deflected. "Talk to me. Tell me stuff."

"I don't have stuff," Quinn said, letting her eyes drop shut.

Rachel raised her head up and Quinn pushed it gently back down.

"You do so," she scolded. "Tell me about your work today."

"Rachel," Quinn fussed. "This is supposed to be relaxing."

"Please," she said, adding just enough whine to make it impossible for Quinn to refuse. "I'm tired of my stuff."

Quinn exhaled her reluctance, punctuating it with a grown. Rachel draped her thigh across Quinn's, tangling their legs together. Quinn dropped her hand down and patted it affectionately. More bare skin she noted, although she was now reasonably sure Rachel still had on some barely-there underwear.

"Okay, Noah wants me to hire Sam, " she offered, knowing there would be questions.

"Why?" Rachel asked as if on cue.

"Some notion he's got in his head that Sam can be his trainee and learn the business," Quinn explained. "I think he just wants an assistant to boss around."

"Don't you like Sam?" Rachel asked. She rested her cheek against Quinn's shoulder and watched her.

"It's not that," she admitted. "Not exactly. I mean, he's kind of twitchy and underfoot all the time, but he's okay. He seems like a nice guy."

"You make him nervous," Rachel observed. "He's afraid of you."

Quinn smirked.

"Yeah, I know," she admitted. "There was an incident. He's been skittish since then, but that's not why I don't want to hire him."

"It's not because he stares at me so much is it?" Rachel asked, tickling beneath Quinn's chin with her index finger. "Or that he saw me naked?"

"No, it's not," Quinn said slowly. "But all of that seriously annoys me. And it was only _half_-naked."

Rachel ducked her face into Quinn's shoulder and giggled.

"I'm glad you find that amusing," Quinn remarked dryly.

"I like when you get jealous," Rachel said, her eyes flashing. She cupped her cheek and kissed her face several times until Quinn shrugged her shoulders up.

"Stop it," Rachel scoffed. "I know you like it."

"Besides, it's not that I'm jealous," Quinn argued, ignoring her. "I just don't want him hanging around all the time. Noah's bad enough. The two of them together would require constant babysitting. I would never get anything done worrying about what they were doing."

"Sam strikes me as being pretty responsible," Rachel said, chewing on her lower lip. She wondered if Quinn even cared what she thought about all this.

"He's a broke musician who lives over some old lady's garage," Quinn pointed out. "I think Noah feeds him most days. He's a glorified beach bum, sweetie."

"Well I like him," Rachel said, standing her ground. "I can be his reference."

"Hmmm," Quinn said, as she squeezed her thigh. "So who is going to be yours?"

Rachel chuckled and rose up, nuzzling her face against her neck. She licked her softly and felt Quinn shivered.

"I thought you were sleepy," she noted, squirming slightly. Rachel's bare breast was pressed firmly against her arm.

"I am," Rachel admitted. She tickled her fingertips lightly across Quinn's sheet-covered breast, fully expecting to be scolded or stopped. When she wasn't her eyes darted up to Quinn's face. She was turned slightly away from Rachel and her eyes were still closed. Feeling bold, Rachel did it again, letting her fingertip circle the swelling nipple.

"You're not acting very sleepy," Quinn said. She knew she should push Rachel's hand away, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She liked Rachel touching her and it was getting harder and harder to stop her.

"I'm sorry," Rachel said, falling back into an old habit.

"Don't be sorry," Quinn scolded. "Not unless you're doing something you're really sorry for. Are you?"

Rachel shook her head.

"No, I'm not," she insisted. To prove it, she rubbed her thumb deliberately across the now-hard nipple and pinched it. Quinn rolled over into her and Rachel squeaked in surprise.

"Well, okay then," Quinn said, wrapping her arms around her. She hugged Rachel against her chest.  
>"If you want something, chickadee, you need to tell me now before I fall asleep."<p>

"I just...it's...I'm..." she stammered in a flustered rush, not expecting such a direct request. She grunted in frustration. Quinn kissed her sweetly.

"Try again," she said patiently, her lips grazing over her face. "What do you want, Rachel?"

"I..." she said and hesitated.

"I want..." Quinn coaxed, still kissing her softly. "Tell me."

"I want..." Rachel parroted and then stopped.

"Rachel Berry," Quinn teased, "Speechless. Tongue-tied."

"I don't know what I can ask for," Rachel protested, poking at Quinn. "You're just gonna say..."

Quinn's kiss cut her off.

"Nope, not tongue tied," she said, pulling away. Rachel groaned and leaned her head into her. Quinn ruffled her hair. "Now let's try again. I want..."

Quinn stared at her, highly amused. She loved getting the little brunette flustered – it delighted her.

"I can't," she said. "Not while you're looking at me."

"But I like looking at you," Quinn said, quirking her brow, staring very deliberately at Rachel's naked torso.

"Quinn," Rachel whined and clamped a hand over Quinn's eyes.

"Oh god, really?" Quinn fretted, frowning and yanking her head away. "Here, I'll close my eyes." She leaned into her pillow and closed her eyes, turning her face slightly away.

"See, not looking," she said, her voice soft and dreamy. "Just tell me."

Rachel smiled at her.

"I like this," she said, tracing the contours of her face with two fingers. "I can't even tell you how much I like this."

A contented "hmmm" was Quinn's only response. Rachel wiggled and burrowed against her, burying her face into her, cuddling.

"I want this, just this," she said, her voice lost in Quinn's shirt. "Just to be here, with you, like this – all the time, okay?"

When Quinn didn't comment she raised her eyes and peered up at her. She could tell by watching her she was asleep. She realized at that moment it was the first time in days she hadn't worried about what time it was or where she needed to be next. At this moment she was exactly where she wanted to be and she felt safe and loved.

She laughed softly.

And well fed. Quinn was right, her stomach had stopped protesting.

"See, even when you're asleep you make me happy," she whispered as she leaned up and kissed Quinn's cheek softly. She stirred and instinctively moved closer, but didn't wake. Rachel put her head down. She felt Loki creep up and snuggled between them. When she looked down, she saw Loki had both of his front paws resting on Quinn's outstretched hand.

"She's not yours," she whispered, stroking his fur. Loki trilled and warbled, but she couldn't tell if he was arguing with her or agreeing. She tapped him lightly on the nose. He pawed at her finger a few times, then licked it. When she didn't pull away he nibbled at it and then tried to get it into his back teeth to chew on it.

"No, no, bad kitty," she scolded, shaking her finger at him. "Bad Loki." He yawned. Rachel did the same and rubbed her eyes.

"Bad Loki," Quinn muttered in her sleep and then giggled. Loki batted at Quinn's fingers and Rachel gently moved his paw away. He hissed softly and flipped his tail at her.

"Loki," she warned firmly. He flattened his ears and glared at her. When she didn't cower at his antics he curled into a ball to pout.

Rachel draped her arm across Quinn protectively and closed her eyes.

**=^..^=**


	19. Chapter 19: Statement of Profit and Loss

"Rachel, wake up." Rachel's eyes fluttered briefly, then closed again as Quinn shook her lightly.

"Hmmm, why?" She whined and snuggled deeper into her pillow.

"Rachel," Quinn repeated and rubbed her hand along Rachel's bare arm. It was silky soft and bed-warm like the rest of her.

"What?" she asked groggily. She raised up on her elbows and gazed anxiously around the dark room feeling disoriented because nothing looked or felt familiar. Her gaze settled on Quinn, who was staring at her and touching her softly.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her tone now urgent. Something must be wrong for Quinn to look so serious.

"Nothing," Quinn replied "I just – I just need – you to wake up."

Rachel's eyes shifted to the alarm clock next to them and realized she still had precious sleeping-time left before her alarm was slated to go off. She opened her mouth to protest, but Quinn kissed her unexpectedly and pressed her back down into the mattress.

"Ohh," Rachel squeaked, caught by surprise.

Her body responded quickly while her brain caught up and she melted to Quinn's touches, encouraging her, as she rolled on top of her, still kissing her. Now effectively pinned, Rachel squirmed trying to find a comfortable position that would allow her to be a more active participant.

"We cant stop if you..." Quinn announced suddenly, pulling away.

"No!" Rachel yelped. She grabbed Quinn's shirt and roughly pulled her back. "Don't stop."

Rachel locked back on to Quinn's lips, moaning with loud enthusiasm. Quinn rocked her hips against Rachel's, deliberately rubbing against her. She did it again, harder, and Rachel gasped. This wasn't the first time Quinn had done this, but it was over so quickly before that Rachel barely realized what she was doing. She was determined not to let that happen again.

"Slow," she urged, but Quinn only grunted in response. She put her hands beneath Rachel's hips and tilted her up and then rolled slowly against her. Rachel moaned loudly and her hand clenched the sheet.

"God, Quinn," she panted.

Quinn groaned heatedly and this excited Rachel even more. She was anxious to let her to know.

"Hearing you do that," she stammered. "It makes me so..."

"Touch me, Rachel," Quinn insisted. She was breathing hard, her lips pressed against Rachel's neck. "I want your hands on me when I..."

Rachel pushed her hands beneath Quinn's shirt, pulling it up, raking her nails across her skin. Quinn hiss and her breath quickened. Rachel brought her legs up, and wrapped them around Quinn's thighs.

"Is that..good?" she asked.

"So good," Quinn answered in a throaty growl. She quickened her pace, whimpering softly. Rachel could feel herself getting warm, her muscles tensing. She squeeze her eyes shut and tried to hold back.

"Too fast, too fast," she gasped, her voice frantic. "I'm gonna...ohhhh, I wanna...wait for...you."

Quinn hushed her with hot kisses across her face.

"Go," she insisted.

Rachel shuddered and groaned deeply, surrendering herself. Listening to Rachel come undone pulled Quinn over. She dropped her head into Rachel's shoulder and clutched at her, her breathing gone ragged as her body shook with each wave. When the spasms eased, she collapsed beside her.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said. "I know you need your sleep. Just you being next to me like that...I just couldn't stop thinking about..."

Rachel's kiss stopped her in mid-sentence. She was positively giddy that Quinn found the thought of her so distracting she couldn't sleep.

"Promise you'll always wake me," she whispered, giggling. "I never want to miss that."

"Promise," Quinn said. She groaned and curled around her, molding into her addictive softness.

"Quinn," she whispered.

"Hmm?" she answered.

"Something's licking my foot," she said nervously.

"Not me," Quinn admitted with a smirk, pulling her closer. "Wake me know if they start gnawing on you."

Rachel jabbed an elbow back lightly into her stomach and Quinn grunted.

"All right," Quinn said. "I'll rescue you."

She reached down and fluffed the comforter hard. There was a chirp followed by a soft thud, a loud hiss and the squeaky fluttering of the cat door. Quinn waited, listening to see if the night visitor would return, but after a brief episode of screeching in the living room the house was quiet. Satisfied all was well, she snuggled back up behind Rachel.

"I think your secret admirer has been successfully rebuffed," she said. She playfully licked her ear. "Now there's only me."

"Only you," Rachel echoed in a sleepy tone.

She pulled Quinn's hand up, tucked it under her chin and closed her eyes.

Loki waited until he was certain they were asleep before he crept back and placed his latest treasure – a tiny withered tree frog carcass he'd found squashed beneath the window sill – in the folds of Rachel's skirt. He covered it a few times with his paw to secure it, then whispered like quicksilver out through the cat door again.

=^..^=

"Hi, hi," Rachel said excitedly when Quinn answered after the third ring.

"Hey," Quinn replied.

"What are you doing?" Rachel asked with a bright sing-song lilt to the question.

"Working," Quinn answered in the same cheery tone. "Trying to pay bills."

"Oh, okay," Rachel replied. There was a lull. Quinn could imagine Rachel fidgeting around uncomfortably.

"Guess what," Rachel gushed, breaking the silence.

"What?" Quinn asked.

"No, come on, guess." Rachel scolded. "That's half the fun. You have to guess."

"Not fun, not guessing," Quinn refused, trying to sound stern.

"You'll never guess," Rachel predicted boldly, ignoring the fact that Quinn wasn't playing along. "Never."

"You're right," Quinn agreed. "I never will." She heard a distinct huff of irritation on the other end of the line.

"Fine, have it your way. I just won't tell you," Rachel threatened.

The tone and the blatant attempt at manipulation made Quinn chuckle. She knew Rachel would tell her eventually because if she didn't she might explode.

"Okey doke," Quinn replied.

"Oh well," Rachel replied, trying her best to sound indifferent. "You'll just never find out my amazing news."

_Wanna bet?_ Quinn thought with a smirk.

There was another long pause and a lot of random noises from Rachel's side of the call. Quinn could tell by the amount of whimpering she wouldn't have to wait very long.

"Santana got me a driver," Rachel blurted out suddenly. "A car and driver, Quinn. Isn't that amazing?"

"You were right. I never would have guessed," Quinn admitted, smiling.

"I know!" she squealed excitedly. "I'm riding around right now. I know it's silly, but it's sort of like I'm really, you now, somebody."

"You are somebody," Quinn replied.

She giggled happily.

"You think so?" Rachel asked.

"I know so," Quinn replied firmly. "The question is why don't you?"

Rachel leaned her head back on the seat, glowing, as she relished the butterflies in her stomach.

"So what's the deal with the car?" Quinn asked, but only because she knew Rachel was dying to tell her.

"It's not for all the time," she explained, turning serious. "It's only for those really long days like today. Santana said she was worried that I was driving when I was so tired, and that I wasn't eating so she wanted to make sure nothing happened to me."

Quinn could hear Santana making that exact speech. She could also image Rachel trying to pay attention and contain her excitement. Frankly, she hoped Rachel squealed and hugged the hell out of Santana because she knew how much it would irritate her.

"That's great, chickadee," Quinn admitted, sharing her excitement. Now maybe they could both get a decent night's sleep again.

"See, Quinn," Rachel said. "Santana really does look out for me, right?"

"Yes, she does," Quinn confirmed. "Absolutely. San's the best."

She was pleased that Santana followed through and she didn't care who took the credit for the idea. All that mattered was that Rachel was safe and happy.

"Now you don't have to worry about me either," Rachel continued.

"Hmmm, I don't know about that," Quinn countered.

"You won't have to worry about hiring Sam anymore either," she added randomly. Quinn's brow creased.

"What does Sam have to do with this?" she inquired in hushed, suspicious tones. A single eyebrow crawled up her forehead as Rachel remained uncharacteristically silent.

"I...well, he...Santana asked me..." Rachel fumbled over her words nervously.

"Out with it, Rachel," Quinn insisted. She already knew where this was going, but needed her to confirm it.

"Well, Santana hired...Sam," she said haltingly.

Quinn's jaw tightened and her eyes went cold.

Rachel ducked down in the seat with her hand cupped over the phone.

"Quinnpleasedontbemad!" Rachel whispered in a rush as she tried to avoid Sam's inquisitive looks in the rearview mirror.

"I'm gonna have to call you back," Quinn said calmly.

"Quinn wait!" was all Rachel managed to get out before the line went dead. She grunted and flopped over sideways in the seat. She bumped her cell phone lightly against her forehead while chanting "Stupid, stupid, stupid" under breath.

"Problem?" Sam asked, his voice cracking with nerves.

"No, no," Rachel answered, her voice several notes higher than usual, animated and syrupy. "Everything's fine. Big emergency, though. Quinn has to call me back."

"Ohhhh-kay," Sam said slowly, almost certain she was lying. He wished she'd sit up again so he could see her face.

"Don't worry, Sam," she added, sensing his apprehension.

_I'm worried enough for the both us_, she thought to herself. She cupped her hands over her face and closed her eyes while she waited for the phone to ring again.

=^..^=

"Santana Lopez."

Santana answered on the first ring.

"Santana!" Quinn barked.

"Why hello Quinn Fabray," she said cheerfully. "I've been expecting your call."

"What the hell are you trying to pull?" Quinn blustered.

Santana set the phone on her desk and quietly went about her paperwork while Quinn ranted away unaware that she had been reduced to so much shrill background noise. When the angry drone abated Santana picked up her phone again.

"Still going?" she asked smugly. "Or are you finished?"

Quinn merely scoffed.

"There, there, feeling all better now?" Santana asked, her tone dripping with condescension.

"Find someone else," Quinn hissed through gritted teeth.

"Sorry, no can do," Santana replied, adding a shoulder shrug for effect even though Quinn couldn't see it.

"San, I mean it," Quinn warned.

"Oh, I know you do," Santana acknowledged calmly. "And I'm sure you're doing that thing, you know, with the eyes, the lips – all of your 'I'm so terrifying and potentially homicidal' business. Ah yes, scary you – I trust me, I get it."

Quinn realized that she was doing everything _exactly_ as Santana described and grunted with irritation.

"But as frightening as you are," Santana continued, "Believe me when I tell you there is no way anyone else would be willing to work those hours _and_ put up with Rachel for the peanuts I can afford to pay. Surfer boy, however, well, he practically squeed at the offer. I'm sure he totally creamed himself!"

"God damn it, Santana!" Quinn snapped, registering her distaste at the remark and Santana chortled with delight.

"God, Q," she said, no longer able to contain her laughter. "You are so easy to wind up."

Quinn growled as Santana laughed herself into a coughing fit.

"Seriously, Fabray – stop that ridiculous snarling and listen to me," Santana scolded, growing bored with the conversation. "Truth is I had to beg Kevin McAllister to take this gig. It seems he's legitimately terrified of you. God knows why."

Quinn rolled her eyes hard.

"There is no way he'll lay a hand or nary a trouty lip on your precious Rachel," Santana continued. "In fact, I suspect he will treat her like the special snowflake she believes herself to be and all will be well in her little sparkle Berry world. Meanwhile, you and I can go back to actually getting our real business done instead of babysitting Rachel 24/7. Get it?"

Quinn hated the fact that everything Santana said made perfect sense. She likewise hated that she was going to be forced to actually admit it. To Santana no less! Best deal with it like ripping off a bandage, quick and with no-muss.

"Fine, I get it!" Quinn spat out, her face fixed with a sour grimace.

"Ooooh, I know how much that hurt," Sananta mused, smugly relishing the moment. "So will you please stop being an love-sick idiot for one second and just admit that I'm on top of this, Quinn?"

"You better hope so," she snarled and hung up.

"You're welcome," Santana snapped at the dead phone, which promptly rang again. She groaned.

"Santana Lopez," she said in her best non-nonsense business tone. "What" Are you kidding? Did you hear that from me? No, well, there's your answer. If you didn't hear it from me then it's nothing but complete crap. Of course I'd tell you if I knew. "

Santana rolled her eyes and crossed her fingers.

"Sure, I'll hold." she said as she swiveled impatiently back and forth in her chair, staring at her fingernails.

_Worse than a daycare_ she thought to herself.

=^..^=

True to her promise, Quinn called Rachel back.

"Hi," Rachel answered on the first ring in a small, nervous chirp.

"Why do you sound like you're in a well," Quinn asked.

"I'm laying down in the back seat," Rachel told her. "Just trying it out."

The confession amused Quinn. It was such a very Rachel thing to do and she found it endearing.

"So how is it?" she asked.

"Not bad," Rachel admitted. "I could probably fall asleep if I wanted."

"Listen, do you think your _driver_ could bring you over here sometime today?" Quinn asked slowly.

"Ummm, I think so," Rachel answered, biting her lip. "Why?"

"Mostly because I like looking at you," Quinn replied. "And because I'm sure Santana is paying by the hour and covering the gas. But mostly because I like looking at you."

Rachel rolled over so she was facing the driver's seat.

"Okay, but you can't be mean," Rachel instructed. She glanced up into the rear view mirror and caught Sam's eyes. "You have to promise me."

"Of course I won't," Quinn said smoothly, her fingers crossed.

"You won't promise?" she asked, confused. "Or you won't be mean?"

"Rachel!" Quinn scoffed. "Whichever."

"Okay, but only since you promised," Rachel said quickly, keenly aware she was already on Quinn's nerves. "We could come by now, I guess."

Sam's eyes went wide and his hands gripped the steering wheel like a lifeline.

"Perfect," Quinn said. "I can't wait."

Fifteen minutes later a grinning Rachel appeared in the doorway to her office.

"Ta da," she said, leaning against the doorframe, playing with the hem of very short skirt. "Feast your eyes on this."

She primped around in a circle playfully blowing kisses.

"Hi," she said.

"Hi, yourself," Quinn answered, unable to stop smiling. She rocked forward in her chair and wiggled her index finger at Rachel. "Come over here."

Rachel quirked her mouth, then bit her lip and walked closer. Quinn watched innocently until she was within reach, then she grabbed her by the waist and pulled her into her lap. Rachel giggled and duck her head when she planted quick kisses on her neck behind her ear.

"Yeah, I might like this," Quinn teased, tickling her. "You just showing up here, unannounced."

Rachel cupped her chin and kissed her mouth softly.

"Mmmm, me, too," she cooed as she nibbled on her lips. "But..."

Quinn shushed her.

"No buts..." she scolded. "Well, except for this one." She eased her hands beneath Rachel's skirt and squeezed her backside. Rachel squirmed nervously.

"Quinn, the door is open," she whispered.

"Yup, sure is," she acknowledged, unconcerned. She grinned at her and Rachel grinned back, then welded her lips tightly against Quinn's. It was Quinn who broke away first and Rachel fussed audibly.

"More" she pleaded.

She tried to start up again, but Quinn ducked her head and Rachel's lips grazed her cheek.

"I just remembered, I have this work thing," she said.

"Nooo," Rachel groaned, pouting.

Quinn reached for a tissue and wiped away the lipstick smeared across her mouth and cheek. She eased a clingy, protesting Rachel off her lap and into the chair.

"I gotta check on this – thing. I'll be right back, " she explained.

"What thing?!" Rachel said. "Can't it wait?"

"Nope," Quinn said, shaking her head. "Sorry – cats and dogs, bad situation."

She put her hands on the arms of the chair and pecked Rachel on the lips once.

"Wait," she said.

Kiss.

"Right"

Kiss.

"Here."

She caught her lips and held them until Rachel started pulling at her. Quinn grabbed her hands and forced them into her lap.

"I'll be right back," she repeated as she stood up to go. Rachel rolled her tongue over her lips and eye-sexed her impishly.

"Hurry," she teased. Quinn hesitated and stared wistfully, watching as Rachel crossed her legs slowly, deliberately letting her short skirt ride up her taut thighs.

"Augh, Rachel," Quinn grunted and forced herself out of the room. Sam rounded the corner just as she emerged from her door. He blanched, his face easily matching his white-blonde hair.

"Sorry," he muttered as he turned away quickly.

Quinn's hand clamped instantly onto the back of his neck and she marched him into the storage room before she turned him loose. He spun and faced her, backing cautiously away. He stopped only because he bumped up against some shelves.

"Quinn, I, I..." he sputtered, but went silent immediately when she held up her hands.

She walked towards him slowly, hands on her hips. With nowhere else to go, he shifted his eyes around nervously like a caged animal desperate for an escape route. She stopped with only a couple of feet between them.

"Let me get something straight with you," she said as she poked a slim finger lightly into his chest. She could have sworn she heard a whimper.

"I like you," she said placidly. "I think you're a good guy." He swallowed hard and looked genuinely confused. "And it's only because I think you're a good guy that I'm letting this whole 'driver' thing happen," she explained patiently, her eyes boring into his. "Do you understand me?"

He nodded rapidly.

"Say it," she insisted. "So there are no misunderstandings."

"Yes, yes, I do," he said.

"Good," she acknowledged.

"And I,I,I am... a good guy," he risked adding softly.

"Okay then, Sam, I am," she said, taking a step and closing the gap between them. "We understand each other. "

There was more vigorous nodding on his part. She could see he was visibly relieved.

"I'm trusting you, good guy that you are, to take care of Rachel," she continued, her finger still tapped against his chest with the beat of his heart. "To make certain that she's safe and happy, right?"

"Oh, right, yeah." he agreed enthusiastically. "So safe and so happy. Sure, absolutely, no problem. You won't believe how..."

"Stop talking," she said, holding up one hand. He cowered and close his mouth. "Make no mistake," she continued. "If anything, and I do mean_ any little_ _thing_ happens to Rachel on your watch, well, I'm going to be very disappointed in you."

She leaned into him.

"Trust me, Sam Evans," she said flatly, her eyes steel and green ice. "You do not want me to be disappointed in you."

"You won't...be in me," he insisted weakly. "Disappointed, I mean. I...promise." The last word emerged as a croaked squeak.

Quinn stared at him a while longer and then flashed him a bright smile that lit up her whole face.

"Okay, great," she said warmly. "Thank you so much for looking out for Rachel."

She patted his chest, impulsively kissed him quickly on the cheek, then spun on her heel and walked out. Sam let out a gush of long-held breath, but didn't move. Frankly he didn't trust his knees to hold him up. Puck found him ten minutes later, still rooted to the same spot.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing?" he asked, his face a confused scowl.

"I was – Quinn, she – we were, uh, talking," he stammered. "Bro, like, I'm pretty sure she's gonna kill me, man. What was I thinking?"

Puck doubled over with laughter. Sam scoffed at his reaction.

"Dude, I mean it. She's, like, way scary," Sam insisted. "Like ninja scary, you know? One minute she's like totally 'well do ya, punk, do ya' and the next she's like sweet and smiling and thanking me. It was freaky."

"Q ain't gonna kill you, man," Puck said, as he clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder and peeled him away from the shelf. "She pulls that psycho Jedi-mindfuck business all the time, but she's all talk."

He moved Sam out in front of him.

"Well, mostly," he corrected.

Sam scowled back at Puck as he pushed him through the door into the backroom.

"Mostly?" he croaked.

"Listen, just keep your mouth closed, your pants zipped and your hands to yourself," Puck added. "Trust me, bro – I know how she is. Just keep Rachel all rainbows and fairy dust happy and Quinn will leave you alone. "

"You sure?" Sam asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Puck insisted. "Besides, the one you really gotta worry about is Santana. That chick is crazy."

"What?" Sam squawked and Puck howled with laughter.

"Cash the checks and stop worrying, man," he said between snorting giggles. "Cash...the...checks."

"Puckerman, your women are seriously scary," Sam muttered under his breath. "Wicked hot, but hella crazy."

"Yeah, I know, " Puck said proudly. "Believe me, I know."

=^..^=

Quinn literally stumbled through the door. It was the third night in a week's time that she had left the house before daybreak and gotten home after 10 pm. She tossed her keys on the kitchen table and wearily dumped her bags on the floor. There was a note from Puck propped up between the salt and pepper shakers. She fell heavily into a chair and pulled it closer so she could read it.

_Working a close, then straight 2 class. Leftovers = fridge.  
><em>_Z-Man had a rough day. No food. Hard time moving around. Sorry, Q.  
><em>_Puckerman out._

Quinn sighed heavily and pushed the note away. She sat staring at the table in front of her. She knew Puck sugar-coated Pie's issues for her so for him to say anything meant it must have been a pretty bad day.

She was contemplating the situation when Loki raced into the living room. He hit the wood floor at a full run, lost his traction and skidded butt-first hard into the couch. The recoil bounced him out into the middle of the room where he sat, momentarily dazed, She had pause to worry until he began frantically grooming himself. Mid-lick, he notice her watching him and stared at her, a little pink half moon of tongue hanging in mid-air. The befuddled look on his face brought a smile to her lips. He jumped up, stretched, then shook himself from head to tail. He swaggered a few cocky steps and then rocketed out of the room and up the stairs. She could hear him tearing up and down the hallway, ricocheting into things. In her head she heard Puck's voice saying, "That mean little fucker's not right."

With Loki's temporary distraction removed, Quinn resigned herself to having to get up. All she wanted to do was fall into bed and sleep – no food, no fuss. And yes, no Rachel – now that she had her "driver" she wasn't as likely to turn up at odd hours. As much as she liked finding the little brunette zombied out on her doorstep, Quinn would be forced to confess it was wreaking havoc with her daily routine.

She noisily walked the chair back, pushed herself up and trudged down the hall.

Walking into her room she expecting to see Pie resting on his bed, tail thumping and ready to go outside, but his bed was empty. She quick-stepped across the hall to Noah's room, pushed the door open and peered in, but that corner was empty as well.

"Pie?" she called, her voice rising anxiously. She moved quickly from room to room.

She found him in the laundry room. Even though it was hard on his joints, the old dog sometimes liked to stretch out on the cool tile floor. Puck had placed a blanket down for him and left out food and water. The food was untouched, but the water was nearly gone.

"Hey old man, " she said. He didn't raise his head, but his tail brushed back and forth a few times. She knelt beside him and put her hand on his head. He felt warm to her touch. "Wanna go outside?"

The old dog whined loudly and struggled to stand up. Quinn moved immediately to lift him and waited to see if he could support himself. He stood for a moment, panting heavily, then moved to the water dish and emptied it.

"So, wanna try it?" Quinn asked again.

He looked up at her and then took slow, shuffling steps, his tail waving in quiet rhythm to his strides. Quinn sighed heavily and followed beside him, ready to catch him if he stumbled. He got through the house and onto the deck, but paused at the steps and stood staring out at the grass. Once more, he turned and looked up at her. Quinn picked him up and carried him into the yard. She lowered him in the cool grass and waited. Again, he looked to her for reassurance before moving in slow, careful steps to his usual sniffing spots.

After he managed a few good yards Quinn took her eyes off of him, distracted by several large wind-blown branches. She gathered them up and walked them to the fence, then futzed with stacking them neatly until Puck could get rid of them.

_Pie_, she reminded herself and scanned the yard, but didn't see him.

She cursed herself for not thinking to bring a flashlight as she strained to see into the pockets of shadow where the weak flare of porch light didn't quite reach. She could barely make out a shadowy form on the opposite side of the yard and moved in that direction.

She recognized it as Pie, but she couldn't make out what he was doing. Her fear was he had fallen and was struggling to get back on his feet. She broke into a run.

In the murky light she could see the elderly dog was down on his side and his legs were moving, but he wasn't trying to get up. Instead he was shaking with all four of his legs splayed stiffly as they twitching uncontrollably – all the telltale signs of a seizure.

Her heart squeezed up and pounding in her throat as she knelt beside him.

"No, no, no, no, no, " she whimpered, her hands balled into frustrated fists.

She knew there was nothing she could do for him except wait it out, but watching was excruciating. She rocked back and forth feeling useless. The tremors stopped suddenly and Pie went limp. Quinn would have thought he was dead, but for the slow rhythmic rise of his chest. She cautiously put her hand on his head and talked softly to him.

"It's okay, Pie," she said, her voice breaking.

She bent down low where he could see her.

"I'm right here. It's okay," she said, trying to make both of them believe it.

His eyes were fixed and unfocused and he appeared dazed. She wasn't sure if he could recognize her or even still see her, but she kept talking hoping to soothe him. He must be so frightened and confused. After ten minutes his tail thumped softly when she spoke his name. She tried to see if he'd thrashed and bitten his tongue, but he would only licked her fingers.

"Jesus, old man," she said, leaning her head into him, bunching her fingers in his fur. "What are you doing, huh?"

Thump, thump, thump.

She didn't wait for him to try and get up. She scooped him up, struggled to her feet and carried him into the house. She set him down gently on the living room floor and ran to get his blanket. By the time she returned he was in the throes of another seizure.

"God damn it, no!" she spat out. She chucked the blanket aside and dropped to her knees next to him. Grunting loudly she struggled to shove the coffee table out of the way, but only succeeded in tipping it. The contents spilled everywhere.

"Fuck!"

Without thinking she moved to pick up the books the rested against his head. Pie snapped blindly, his jaws closing tight on her hand. Pain flared like ice water, sucking the breath out of her. She yelped and wrestled back bruised and bloody fingers, cradling them against her chest. Hot, frustrated tears sprang up and spilled over and she brushed them away angrily with the back of her uninjured hand.

Out of nowhere Loki appeared and warily tried to sniff Pie, but Quinn slapped him away.

"Out!" she spat. "Go!"

The precocious little cat fled hissing. A few moments later she caught a quick glimpse of him perched midway up the stairs. He was tucked back in the shadows of the wall and chirruped anxiously as he watch the events in the living room. Quinn felt a surge of guilt about her harsh reaction.

Pie began making guttural, gargling noises and she forgot all about Loki.

"Come on, come on, come on!" she chanted roughly as she prayed next to her beloved dog. "Stop, stop, please, please, oh please stop."

When the convulsions mercifully subsided she didn't hesitate. She wrapped Pie in the blanket and rushed him to the car.

=^..^=

Rachel's phone flashed on in the dark and the refrain from "Defying Gravity" filled the silence. Mr. Arnstein marched across the top of the pillows and hissed loudly at it, then plopped himself down right on Rachel's head. She whined and pushed at him, but he refused to budge.

She burrowed her face into her pillow and tried to ignore the phone, but between the loudly purring cat and the "what if's" over the call, it was no use. She fumbled for the phone, knocked it on the floor and scrambled over the side of the bed to retrieve it. She stared at the screen through a tangle of messy curls. It read "Quinn" and she immediately accepted the call.

"Hello," she gasped, pushing her unruly hair out of her eyes.

"Rachel?" Quinn asked.

"Yes, hi," she answered, holding her hair back.

"It didn't sound like you," she said.

Actually Quinn was the one who sounded – odd.

"What's wrong?" Rachel asked.

"I'm sorry to bother you," she said, already wishing she hadn't called.

"It's no bother," Rachel insisted, sitting up and trying to sound alert. She didn't want Quinn to know she'd been sleeping. To complicate matters further Nicky came over and strutted back and forth, loudly demanded affection. She grunted and pushed him away. He swaggered to the end of the bed and sat glaring at her until he noticed her bra strap peeking up out of the covers. He hooked it with a claw and tugged it closer then began gnawing on the clasp.

"Quinn, what's wrong?" Rachel repeated. Maybe if she kept asking Quinn would eventually answer it.

"It's Pie. I'm at the vet's office and I... I was... " Her voice trailed away and she scrubbed her hand across her face. _Oh, just say it._ _Say it! _ " I need someone here. I need – Rachel, will you please come?"

"Quinn, oh my god, I'm sorry," Rachel said, searching for something, anything, to say to comfort her and failing. "I'm so sorry."

Quinn sighed and her heart sank. She knew it was a lot to ask.

"Of course, I'll come," Rachel said and Quinn's spirit lifted momentarily. "Just tell me where you are."

She gave her the name of the veterinary clinic and the address.

"Do you know where that is?" she asked.

"Not really, no," Rachel said honestly and immediately wished she hadn't admitted it. "No problem though. I'm sure I'll find it."

"I'll text it to you," Quinn told her, not trusting Rachel's sense of direction. "Put it in your GPS."

"I'll be there as quickly as I can," Rachel said, already thrashing about to find her clothes.

"Can you program it?" Quinn asked.

"No!" she gasped, noticing the cat, who was busy pulling the delicate black lace through his teeth like dental floss.

"No?" Quinn parroted, confused.

"What?" Rachel asked, distracted.

She grabbed the bra away from Nicky and groaned lightly when she saw how he'd mangled the clasp and shredded one cup. She held her hand over the phone and shook the ruined garment at him.

"Bad kitty," she scolded in a harsh whisper. "Bad, bad kitty." He licked his paw and defiantly groomed his ear.

"Rachel?" Quinn said loudly. "The GPS, can you do that?"

"What – yes, yes," she said, sounding scattered. "I can. Just wait for me. Don't _do_ anything until I get there."

"I'll wait, They're still running tests," Quinn explained. "And Rachel, please be careful."

Rachel chuckled wryly.

"I'll be fine," she said. "I mean it – wait!"

"I will," she assured her. "I'll wait for you."

There was some commotion that Rachel couldn't make out.

"I gotta go," Quinn said and the line went dead.

Rachel scrambled off the bed and frantically tugged on her jeans.

She was sifting through the covers looking for her shoes when Nicky puffed his tail and hissed at her. He fully intended to tell her off and then punish her by hiding for the next 24 hours. To his horror she scooped him up and hugged him tightly, repeatedly raining wet kisses on his head. He squirmed and yowled, pushing frantically while trying to escape.

"My sweet boy," she said, hugging her face into his silky fur. "I love you so much."

He droned loudly, his ears pancaked tightly against his head, but to no avail. Still more kisses, more cuddling, more...dreaded affection. He was about to sink his teeth into her arm when she unceremoniously dumped him back on the bed. He scurried off and fled down the stairs in case she planned on grabbing him again. He was still skulking behind the couch when she stumbled down the steps and raced out the front door.

It took Rachel nearly half an hour to find the clinic and even then Quinn suspected she broke at least a few dozen assorted traffic laws en route. She was standing out front, leaning against the building when Rachel pulled into the parking lot. She caught her in the glow of her headlights and immediately turned them off and pulled into the spot nearest the door. She got out quickly as Quinn pushed off the building and walked toward her.

"Quinn," she said.

"Hey," Quinn answered, her eyes dim.

Rachel immediately threw her arms around her and pulled her into a tight hug. To her surprise, Quinn didn't resist. In fact, she even seemed to welcomed the contact as she sighed painfully and rested her head on Rachel's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said. "I know you're exhausted. I just couldn't get through to Puck or Santana."

The truth was that the first person she thought of was Rachel and she'd only tried the others to keep from waking Rachel.

Rachel shook her head.

"Quinn, stop apologizing," she told her, rubbing circles on her back. "I'm just sorry for the reason. Are you okay?" she asked, then scoffed quickly, as she realized how ridiculous the question sounded. "Of course you're not okay. Oh my god, please forget I asked that."

Quinn pulled away from her gently and Rachel wanted to smack herself in the head. She would be the first to admit she wasn't always a good choice in a crisis situation. She had a tendency to talk too much and get overly emotional.

"I'm okay," Quinn answered finally, meeting her gaze. Her eyes were dull. There was a smear of what appear to be blood across her face.

"You're bleeding," Rachel gasped. "Why are you bleeding?" Her tone now bordered on hysterical as she noticed more blood stains on Quinn's shirt and pants. She moved her fingertips to the crimson-streaked on Quinn's cheek, but Quinn pulled her head away.

"It's nothing," she said, brushing it with her own fingers. "I tried to – he bit me."

She held up her hand. Her fingers were clumsily wrapped with gauze padding, Rachel could see blood had seeped through in several spots.

"Quinn, no," Rachel said and she reached for her hand. Quinn jerked it back. Unused to being rebuffed, Rachel flinched and stepped back.

"He didn't mean to," Quinn remarked defensively. "It's nothing, I'm fine."

Rachel watched her with eyes soft and wide with concern. Quinn pulling away twice had stung her and she wasn't certain what to do now. "What happened?" she asked, arms folded across her chest to keep her hands still. She was afraid to do anything else that might push further Quinn away.

"Ummm, seizures, he started having seizures," Quinn explained, her voice hollow. Rachel had to lean in to hear her because she was mumbling and kept plucking at her upper lip with her fingers. "One right after another. Awful, awful seizures, they only stopped when they sedated him."

"Maybe they can find out," Rachel offered quietly. Gun-shy now, she fully expected to be brushed off. "I mean, are there tests?"

Quinn's shoulders shrugged up. "His blood work just came back – the values are all over the place, calcium sky high," she replied. Once more she tried unsuccessfully to rub the blood streak off her face. "More tests aren't going to change any of that."

"There are medicines though, right?" Rachel asked, looking for straws to hold. "Aren't there?"

"No, chickadee," Quinn said, exhaling deeply. "No medicines, no miracles."

"So you're saying..." Rachel swallowed hard and squinted her eyes closed tightly. She held her fists clenched tightly at her sides.

_Don't cry! Don't cry! Don't cry! S_he repeated the command over and over to herself. _She needs you now. Whatever you do, don't start crying. _

"He's tired, Rachel," Quinn continued as she stared blankly into the parking lot, oblivious to Rachel's internal distress "He's just tired and struggling and..."

She exhaled loudly.

"And I've been – selfish," she said loudly. "Really, really selfish."

Quinn swallowed thickly and struggled to speak.

"It's not fair. I have to let him go," she whispered.

Rachel walked into Quinn and draped her arms around her.

"You're not selfish. You just love him," she said. "I'm so sorry, Quinn."

"I know," Quinn acknowledged. "I know. Thank you."

"What can I do?" Rachel asked. "What do you need me to do? Whatever it is – please, just tell me."

"You're doing it," Quinn replied. "Just be here with me."

She kissed the top of her head and held her.

"So I don't have to do this by myself," she added quietly.

"I'm right here," Rachel said. "Right here for as long as you need me."

They stood under the weak light, Quinn leaning heavily against Rachel.

"Where is Puck?" Rachel asked, trying to keep Quinn close and talking.

"He's working," she explained. "I tried his phone, then called the restaurant. They couldn't find him when I called. His break, maybe, I don't know. I'm sure he can't leave."

Her thoughts floated away, fuzzy, disconnected. She felt as though she might collapse at any moment.

"He would want to know, Quinn," Rachel said. "I know he would, even if he can't be here."

"I know," Quinn admitted.

It was true. Zip had been a part of Puck's life almost as long as he'd been a part of Quinn's. Santana's, too.

Rachel pressed her lips to Quinn's cheek.

"Give me your phone," she said. She stepped back and her hand held out. Quinn surrendered her phone without protest. Rachel gave her a sad smile and began to scroll through the contacts looking for the number she needed.

"Noah Puckerman, please," she said loudly, hoping they could hear her in the noisy restaurant. "Yes, Puck. Sure, I'll hold."

Quinn leaned against the building. Rachel had walked a few feet away so she didn't have to yell right in front of her. She watched stoically as Rachel spoke into the phone, apparently to Noah, Rachel nodded frequently and her free hand fluttered randomly during the muffled conversation. She began to walk back in Quinn's direction, still nodding.

"I will," she said. "Of course. I will. Yes?" There was a pause while Rachel listened intently. Her brow crinkled and she looked upset.

"Um, okay. I'll try," she said slowly. "I'll tell her. I will. Bye, Noah."

She ended the call and tucked the phone back into Quinn's pocket.

"He's sorry that he can't be here for you," Rachel told her. "Apparently they're short a bartender tonight and he's filled in. That's why they couldn't find him."

"It's fine, Rachel," Quinn said. "I pretty much expected that."

She sounded tired, strangely detached. Rachel could see she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

"He said to give you this," Rachel continued as she reached to hug her again.

Quinn stood patiently, almost resigned, her arms limp at her sides. Rachel felt awkward and moved out of her space.

"He asked me to tell you he's so sorry," Rachel added, still second-guessing herself. She was already worried that she was talking too much. "He'll try and get away as soon as he can."

"Hmmm, yeah," Quinn replied.

Puck had also confessed he worried he might be getting such a phone call, but Rachel didn't pass that along to Quinn. In fact, he had tried to get out of his shift, but there was no back up available. He added that he was glad she was there for Quinn because he knew that she'd look after her.

"Hey, Rachel?" he'd said near the end of the call.

"Yes?" she had answered.

"Look, don't be surprised if she pushes you away," he said, his tone serious. "You know, after."

"Um, okay," she said, frowning. She glanced nervously at Quinn.

"It's not you, okay? It's just a Quinn thing," he explained. "She's hurt, scared, but she probably won't let you see any of that. Just be patient with her and give her space. She'll come back around when she can."

"I'll try," Rachel said anxiously.

She realized now she had already seen glimpses of Quinn shutting down, subtle pushes keeping her at arm's length.

"Rachel," Quinn called, her voice lilting up.

Rachel's head snapped up.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I kind of zoned out."

"It's okay," Quinn replied. "I know the feeling. I was just saying I don't think I can put this off any longer."

To her surprise, Quinn reached for her hand and they walked into the office together.

=^..^=

Quinn sat on the floor, holding Pie on her lap. He was still partially wrapped in his fuzzy blanket. The vet knelt beside them. He pulled the chest piece across the thick fur, listening intently for any slow thump of a heartbeat, any whoosh of breath, but the mega-dose of anesthetic had done its quick work and there was only silence.

"He's gone, Quinn," Dr. Mason told her, pulling the stethoscope out of his ears and draping it over his neck. "He's gone."

She sighed deeply, nodded and just turned her head away.

Rachel, who was standing off to on side, clamped her hand over her mouth and swallowed hard. Tears spilled slowly down her cheeks. She stepped closer and put her hand on Quinn's shoulder, just so that she'd know she was there.

"I'm very sorry, Quinn," the kindly vet said, wrapping his hand around her wrist. "To be honest, you kept him going far longer than I ever thought was possible. He had a good life, Quinn."

He cleared his throat several times.

"He was such a sweet old boy," he remarked, placing his hand gently on the old dog's head.

"Yeah," Quinn said quickly.

"I'm going to leave you alone," he said softly as he stood up. "Just give you time to say – well, just give you the room. Take all the time you need – I'm not in any hurry."

Quinn didn't respond.

"Thank you, Doctor," Rachel told him with a fleeing smile.

He nodded to her, glanced at Quinn with kind eyes and then left the room.

I'll be right outside," Rachel told her. She rubbed Quinn's head lightly and started to step away.

"Rachel," Quinn said so softly that she could barely hear her. "Will you stay, please?"

"Of course," Rachel answered immediately. She eased down on the floor beside her.

Quinn had both of her hands twisted in Pie's blanket. A lone tear rolled out of the corner of her eye and she brushed it quickly away.

"Silly old Pie," she said quietly.

She put her hand on his head to pet him, fully expecting to see his tail wiggle or his foot come up like it always did. She wanted to talk to him, but she just couldn't bring herself to say anything.

"Quinn," Rachel said quietly, closing her fingers around Quinn's wrist."Are you sure don't want me to just give you a minute? Maybe you'd be more...comfortable saying good-bye alone."

"I won't, " Quinn said, her voice breaking slightly. "I can't."

It had nothing to do with Rachel. Everything was locked up inside of her. She could feel it, but she just couldn't reach in to bring it out of herself. She curled her fingers in the familiar soft coat. Rachel sighed and watched, her heart breaking for Quinn.

"Do you want his collar?" Rachel asked.

Quinn's eyebrows rose up and she nodded.

"I'll get it," Rachel told her.

She slowly unfastened his collar and pulled it off. She fastened it again and just held on to it. Dr. Mason reappeared in the doorway briefly and Rachel caught his eye. She squeezed Quinn's wrist.

"I'll be right back, okay?" she asked.

Quinn barely nodded.

Rachel got to her feet and stepped into the lobby. She spoke in hushed, low tones with the vet while Quinn continued to cradle Pie's body. When Rachel walked back in the room, she noticed that Quinn had closed his eyes. She looked up at Rachel.

"I've kept you long enough," she said flatly. "There's nothing more to do here."

She covered Pie up in his blanket and eased him off onto the floor. Rachel put her hand out and Quinn took it, pulling herself up. She moved to get her keys, which were on the counter next to the exam table.

"Quinn, sweetheart, let me take you home," Rachel suggested softly, putting her hand over the key ring. She expected Quinn would reject her offer, but it was obvious she wasn't in any frame of mind to be driving. "I don't think – just let me take you home."

It wasn't much in the way of offering comfort, but at least it was something that she could do.

"Okay," Quinn agreed, surprising her. "Let me settle with this first."

When Quinn approached Dr. Mason he waved his hands and shook his head.

"Don't worry about that," he said.

"No, I can't let you do that," Quinn protested weakly. "I mean, I got you out here after hours and everything."

"Quinn," he countered firmly. "Go home. We'll sort this all out on another day. For now, just don't worry about such things."

"About Pie – I mean, about his – " Quinn stammered. _About his body. _She couldn't make herself say it.

Once more the vet interrupted her.

"Don't worry about it, Quinn," he insisted. "I'll take care of him."

Realizing she didn't have any fight left in her to argue, she merely thanked him quietly and let Rachel lead her out of the building. They walked in silence to Rachel's car and she held the door while Quinn climbed inside. Closing it gently behind her, Rachel hurried around and climbed behind the wheel. She slipped the key in the ignition, but didn't start it right away. Instead she glanced over at Quinn, who sat staring blindly ahead.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" she asked, her voice shaking.

"I don't know," Quinn mumbled in response.

Rachel waited. Impulsively, she reached over and took Quinn's bandaged hand and cradled it. The bleeding looked to have stopped, but it needed to be cleaned and bandaged properly.

"You should probably have this looked at," Rachel commented. Quinn blinked and stared down at their joined hands as though she was only just realizing that Rachel was still there.

"Quinn, did you hear me?" Rachel asked, looking up at her. Quinn nodded slowly.

"Does it hurt?" Rachel asked, her fingers delicately trying to probe beneath the gauze padding. "What little I can see looks pretty bad. I'll take you to the Urgent Care clinic. It's just right up the street." Again Quinn shook her head.

"No, I need to go home," she insisted.

"Really, Quinn. It won't take very long," Rachel pressed. "Whatever is at home can wait."

"I need to go home. Loki won't know what to do," Quinn said randomly, spilling out one of the many thoughts that were going through her mind.

"Loki?" she asked. "That weird little cat, why?"

"He's probably be frantic by now," Quinn said with look of genuine concern crossing her face. "Pie – Loki follows him everywhere. He even sleeps with him. He's going to be so – lost. He won't understand. I'm afraid he'll just sit in the window and look for him. Or try to leave and find him."

Rachel stroked her hair, listening.

"Quinn," she said quietly. "I'm sure that won't happen."

Quinn groaned.

"Oh God, I yelled at him tonight," she said, remembering. "When he tried to come near Pie. He didn't understand and I was in a panic because he bit me and I screamed at him. And now – now he's never, never going to – see him again."

Unable to stop herself any longer, Quinn dropped her head in her hands and sobbed deeply.

"Oh, Quinn," Rachel said tenderly.

She wrapped her arms around the broken-hearted girl and pulled her close. "I'm so, so sorry." Quinn tried feebly to push her away, but Rachel held fast. "It's going to be okay," she said, pressing kisses to her head. "I've got you."

Eventually Quinn let herself relax and dropped her head against Rachel's chest and just cried while Rachel rocked her.

"I hate – this," she admitted after a while. She rested her head on Rachel's shoulder and scrubbed tears from her face.

"I know, it's so hard, " Rachel said sympathetically. She reached quickly to brush away her own tears and push her hair back behind her ears. She worried that if she stopped touching her Quinn would move away. but she didn't.

"No," Quinn said, shaking her head. "I mean it is, but it's just that I don't – cry about things. Not like this. I hate that I can't seem to stop."

"People cry, " Rachel said. "I think you can forgive yourself about it."

Quinn sighed deeply and Rachel felt her cool breath against the tear-dampened skin on her neck. She leaned her head down onto Quinn's.

"Most people think I'm pretty cold," Quinn admitted. "That I don't have much, I don't know, much heart, I guess."

"Quinn, why would you say such a thing!?" Rachel asked, her brow furrowing. "I don't think that. I've never thought that. You've only been kind and loving towards me."

"Rachel, that's different," Quinn said patiently. "I mean, you're a pretty unique case."

"No, it's not different," Rachel argued. "Even before you knew me, you were that way. I think you keep your feelings pretty close. You're reserved, but you most certainly are not heartless. Please don't ever say that again!"

Quinn couldn't help but smile at how vehemently Rachel was both defending and scolding her and soon Rachel was laughing as well.

"I didn't mean to get so worked up," she admitted, somewhat embarrassed. "It's just I hated hearing you say those things. I don't see you that way at all. Why must you be so hard on yourself?"

"Look who's talking," Quinn deflected.

Rachel sighed and hugged her, guilty to be so happy that she was letting her.

"It's so late," Quinn noted and Rachel took the hint.

"I'll take you anywhere you want to go," Rachel offered. "But I wish you'd come home with me."

Quinn sighed heavily.

"Rachel," she said slowly. "It's probably – "

"I don't mean like that," Rachel interrupted. "I just, I just don't think you should be alone. That's all. We can even just stay here, if that's what you want. I just don't want you to be alone, not when you're so sad."

Quinn looked up at her. She stared briefly, then brushed her lips against Rachel's. Rachel waited as long as she could, then moved in to kiss her again. She could taste the tears on her lips.

"I guess I really should go home," Quinn admitted reluctantly.

"All right," Rachel said, nodding.

She turned the key and backed the car out. They drove in silence.

Rachel kept sneaking glances over at Quinn, but Quinn either didn't see her or pretended not to notice. She sat, for the most part, staring out the passenger window, losing herself in the blur of the lights and scenery rushing past. When Rachel turned up her street, Quinn sat back and let her head drop back against the seat. She didn't move even when Rachel pulled up her driveway.

"I forgot the garage door opener," she said quietly.

"Oh," Rachel said, not really s what to say. "We could go get it."

Quinn smiled and reached for Rachel's hand.

"Rachel," she said quietly.

"Yes," she replied, looking up at her with wide doe-soft brown eyes.

"Thank you," she said, squeezing her fingers.

"Of course, you're welcome," Rachel told her, honestly "Are you sure you're alright to go in? I mean, I can stay if you want – you know, just wait with you until Puck comes home. We could watch television or something. You know what? I could fix you something to eat. Are you hungry?"

Quinn couldn't miss the fact that her expression was so full of concern.

"Rachel?" she said.

"Hmm?" she answered.

Quinn leaned close and kissed her.

"I'm not hungry," she said and kissed her again. It was sweet, lingering.

"Are you sure?" Rachel asked immediately when she pulled away. Quinn smiled and brushed her fingers across her lips.

"Yes, I'm sure," she assured her. "I'm fine. Besides, it's anyone's guess if Noah will come home or not. He may go straight to class and then come home. He knows he can't change anything."

"I don't mind," Rachel told her.

She didn't want to leave her, especially not here alone. Moreover, she didn't want her to move away so she kept talking.

"Or you could come with me. I have a guest room. It's not a problem. I mean, if you don't want to sleep with me. I know that might be an – issue. Quinn, I'll sleep on the couch. Please just change your mind!"

"Rachel," Quinn said, shaking her head and laughing softly.

"I know, the answer is no. You're fine," she said.

The expression on her face was so dejected Quinn couldn't resist wrapping her arms around the loquacious brunette and hugging her.

"I love you," she told her.

"I love you, too," Rachel replied, hugging harder.

"Thank you for worrying about me," Quinn said, nuzzling her cheek

"Quinn, please?!" Rachel pleaded again, desperate to change her mind. "Let me stay with you, just for a little while. I won't even bother you."

"Rachel, I'll be fine," Quinn insisted, now firmly extracting herself from Rachel's grasp.

"I know," Rachel admitted. "I know."

It was clear she didn't mean what she was saying.

"I just wish you'd – I just wish you'd let me stay with you," she murmured. "That's all."

Quinn kissed her cheek.

"I know you do," she said. "It's just, I just, I just need to be by myself for a little while, okay?"

Remembering what Puck had said, Rachel nodded reluctantly. Quinn sifted her fingers through Rachel's hair and planted soft kisses on her lips before she moved away.

"I'm gonna go," Quinn told her.

Rachel nodded weakly, looking crestfallen. If she opened her mouth to speak she was certain she would start crying. Quinn frowned and touched a hand to her cheek, giving her a crooked smile.

"Don't worry," Quinn said. "I'm okay."

Rachel gripped the steering wheel and barely nodded. Her chin was trembling.

Quinn knew if she didn't get out now she probably never would. She put her hand on the door handle. There was a moment's hesitation and Rachel held her breath, but she finally pushed it open, climbed out, and closed it firmly behind her. Quinn lingered once more at the top of the walk, giving Rachel yet another faint glimmer of hope, but she turned, gave a small wave, then disappeared into the house without another glance back.

Rachel waited until she saw a light come on before she drove away. She made it to the end of the block before she burst into tears. She drove sobbing for several blocks until she was finally able to calm herself. Unable to find any tissues, she groaned and wiped her tear-streaked face with her sleeve. She had driven less than five miles when she heard her cellphone chirp that she had a text message.

Hoping it might be Quinn she snatched it up, a smile already on her lips. When she saw it was Finn her smile was doused instantly.

_Seriously?_ _Why now? _she thought.

"Where are you?" he texted. She could almost hear the whining in his voice. "I've called you for hours."

_Hello, caller I.D_., she thought immediately.

Of course, he hadn't been _calling for hours – _he hadn't been calling at all_. _Finn never seemed to comprehend that she could prove him wrong when he made such ridiculous claims. Why was he even texting her so late to begin with?

"I'm home," he texted, as though reading her thoughts. Those words sent a shiver through her.

"You said to call right away when I got home," he continued in yet another text.

No doubt he would want to come over to "talk" even though their late night "talks" as he knew them had long ceased. She accepted that she was going to have to deal with the whole situation, the sooner the better.

It was, in fact, going to be much sooner than she realized, because Finn was sitting impatiently on her step when she pulled in her driveway. He stood up while she pulled her car into the garage and waited for her by the front door.

"Hi," he said, awkwardly.

"Hey," she answered. "What are you doing here?"

He went to kiss her and she turned her head, letting his lips brush against her cheek. She quickly took a step back, putting distance between them. She didn't want to risk his hands on her.

"I couldn't reach you," he said, sounding wounded she had rebuffed his affections. "I got concerned because it's so late. I was afraid something had happened so I came over."

"I see," she said, nodding. She didn't have the strength to dispute his explanation. "No, everything is fine."

The silence hung awkwardly in the air between them.

"So where have you been?" he asked finally.

"I was helping a friend," she admitted, being deliberately vague. She didn't feel she owed him any explanation.

"Oh," he said. He wasn't certain how to proceed since she clearly wasn't interested discussing the matter with him. "Were they moving or something?"

"What?" Rachel asked, confused.

"Your friend – did they need you to help them move or something?" he repeated.

"No, Finn," she said annoyed, realizing he was apparently going to try and guess _how _she had been helping. "They weren't moving. There was an emergency and I needed to be there. That's all."

"Oh, okay, " he said, nodding as though he approved.

She still wasn't answering his questions, but now he was afraid to ask any more for fear of making her really angry. He didn't want to make her angry, he just wanted to go inside with her and was trying to figure out the best way to make that happen. If he could get inside then maybe he could get her to sleep with him and that usually made everything okay. At least in his mind.

"Finn," she said coolly. She suspected he was hanging around mostly hoping for an invitation to stay the night and she wanted to shut that down immediately. "I'm really tired. I just want to go back to bed."

"Okay," he said, taking a step toward her, misinterpreting her admission for an invitation.

"Alone, Finn," she said bluntly because sometimes that was the only thing he understood. "By myself, to sleep."

"Oh," he said, visibly disappointed that sex was not an option.

"I miss you, Rachel," he whined.

"Finn," she snapped.

"I do. We never talk. We never spend any time together anymore," he continued.

She sighed.

"Finn," she said, losing her patience. "You've been gone."

"Yeah, I know." he continued. "But we don't even, you know, talk on the phone anymore at night. You know, like we used to." Apparently he was now hoping to guilt her into some kind of response.

"Yeah," she said, shaking her head. "You've been gone and it's been... crazy busy for me."

She shrugged.

"I'm back now," he said, shuffling his feet.

"Obviously," she remarked.

He reached for her hand and she let him take it, closing his fingers around it. She stared at it. Had he always been so... oafish. She didn't know any other way to put it – the way his hand swallowed up her fingers.

"Finn," she said. "A lot of things have changed."

He was pulling her close and wrapping his arms around her, tucking her head against his chest. She put her hands up against him, mostly to keep from feeling crushed. He hugged her tightly. Instead of feeling secure, comforted, or even remotely aroused, she just felt uncomfortable and vaguely suffocated. Before he was merely being annoying and clingy and constantly underfoot, but now she was actually shrinking from his touch. He bent down and tried to kiss her, catching her off-guard. She pushed hard against his chest, actually forcing him to stumble back.

"No!" she said, dragging the back of her hand across her mouth. "No, Finn. Just don't."

"Why?" he said, his tone somewhere between anger and confusion. "I thought you liked that."

"No, I... don't," she said truthfully.

"You never used to push me away when I'd do those things," he whined.

"I know, Finn," she said, putting her hand lightly on his arm. "I know. Things are different."

"Why are they different?" he asked.

"They just are," she told him. "Look, Finn, I'm sorry, but I just... this, this, this isn't working anymore."

She swallowed hard. She just needed to put it out there and just deal with the consequences. She need this to done.

"What do you mean?" he asked, clearly not following her line of thought.

"This, Finn. Us, you and me – it's just not working anymore. It's not fair to either of us to go on like this," she explained patiently. "Finn, I don't think we should see each other anymore."

He squinted his eyes. His mouth worked, but he wasn't saying anything. She could see that somehow this was all a huge surprise to him and he didn't know where to begin to process it.

"I don't understand," he said pitifully. "I don't know why you're saying this all of the sudden."

"It's really not all of the sudden, Finn," she protested. "I told you that things were different. It's been happening for a while now. I just don't feel the same way about you."

"But I still love you," he told her, sounding almost surprised.

She chuckled wryly.

That was a particularly telling statement. In previous break-ups, she was always the one left holding an aching heart full of unresolved feelings and nowhere to go with them. The shoe was squarely on the other oversized foot and he clearly didn't care for the way it fit.

"Finn," she said, exasperated. "I'm tired."

"Where were you tonight?" he demanded.

"I already told you," she said, evenly. "A friend called me. There was an emergency and I went to help."

"I don't believe you," he said, his tone petulant.

"I really don't care if you believe me or not, Finn," she answered. She was emotionally and physically drained. "I'm tired and I just want to go to sleep. I'm sorry, Finn. I really am. I really hope that we can still be friends."

"I don't want to be your friend, Rachel," he said, sulking.

"I'm sorry you feel that way," she said. "I hope that you'll change your mind."

"No, I just – I only – want to be your boyfriend," he said, fumbling to try explain his feelings and failing.

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I am. Finn, but no. It's over. We're over."

He stood pushing his fist into his forehead, struggling to make sense of what she was telling him.

"Please, just go home," she suggested. "We'll both feel better after a good night's sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

"Why?" he asked, not budging.

"Why what, Finn?" she asked, sighing.

"Why are you going to call me?" he asked. "What's the point of that?"

It was clear that he was bitterly spoiling for a fight.

"All right, fine, she said, getting angrier. "I won't call you. Finn, just leave – I really don't care where you go either, but I'm going inside."

"Fine," he huffed. "I will just leave then."

He took a few steps down the walk.

"Okay," she said, wondering if he really thought she was going to beg him not to go. She walked to put her key in the door, opening the latch.

He paused and turned back toward her.

"You'll be sorry," he spat.

"Maybe," she said, shrugging lightly.

He took another step back in her direction. He wasn't threatening her, but she kept her hand on the door knob, just in case.

"I won't take you back again," he warned. "If I leave tonight, that's it. We're really done, like, for good. I'm tired of the back and forth with us."

She wanted to point out that the the "back and forth" as he called it was mostly his doing, but she didn't really see that it would do much good and just let it go.

"That's fine, Finn," she said as she pushed the door open. "I think it's all for the best." She looked at him briefly, then stepped inside and closed the door.

Once inside Rachel quickly set the lock and then raised up on her tiptoes to peer though the peephole. Finn lingered around in the driveway, pacing. To her relief, he finally walked down and got into his car. He sat inside for several minutes then drove away.

She waited to be certain he was gone before she made her way back upstairs. Not bothering with her pajamas, she peeled off her clothes and and snuggled back into her bed where she'd been hours before and turned off the light. Her mind churned and she found, even though she was exhausted, she couldn't sleep.

The whole scene with Finn played out again in her mind. At one time she would have been completely devastated over something like that. She would have cried for days and quite literally cease to function. This time she felt none of those old emotions. There was only a vague sadness because something once meaningful had ended, but she wasn't emotionally crushed. She wasn't pining for him. All she felt was relief.

She was more concerned about Quinn. It was Quinn she felt like crying over and Quinn she wanted to be with at that moment. Rachel could still think of nothing else except the way the beautiful blonde had felt in her arms, how she had laid her soft cheek against her shoulder. Quinn was wounded and heart-broken and Rachel wanted nothing more than to comfort her and keep her close, but she kept remembering Noah's advice. As hard as it was she forced herself to let her go when she asked and was now hoping he was right and that she would come back again when she could.

=^..^=

Quinn stood for a moment, just inside the doorway. The house was quiet and felt as she did at that moment, empty – cored out and without a spark of life. She forced herself to walk through, to double-check the door locks, before she slipped into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She tried to avoid looking at the corner, but her eyes seems to have will of their own. She sat in the middle of her bed and just stared at the empty dog bed until she was so exhausted she had no choice but to collapse. She pulled her pillow underneath her, curled into the center of her bed and rolled the blanket over her. It wasn't long before she found herself crying again – this time without Rachel or anyone else to comfort her. Now she could let the walls down.

She wasn't sure when she first became aware of it, the little feet marching methodically against her shoulder. Expecting to see Mojo, she was surprised to find Loki look at her inquisitively. She raised her head and the little cat chirped at her, burbling like a flute in his broken meow.

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice nearly gone from crying.

She put out her hand and he nudged her fingers with his head, letting her scratch behind his ears. When she stopped, he burrowed his way beneath the blanket and curled up on her chest. Once he was settled, he began to purr – a steady, contented soothing buzzing. She rested her hand on him and stared at the ceiling fan hoping the spinning blades would hypnotize her and lull her to sleep.

=^..^=

Rachel had just begun her coffee ritual when she heard a knock at the door. She tried to pull it open, but couldn't. It was as though someone was holding it shut from the outside.

"Don't you ever look before you open the door?" a familiar voice scolded.

She tried again and found Quinn standing on her porch.

'Sometimes I do," she chirped, smiling brightly. "Good morning."

"Hey," Quinn answered. Her face was pale and the dark circles beneath her eyes said she hadn't slept.

"I'm surprised to see you," Rachel admitted. "Really happy, but surprised."

"I really couldn't sleep," Quinn confessed. "I just needed to get up and get out."

"Sure," Rachel answered, nodding sympathetically.

"I brought you something," Quinn sad. "I just wanted to say thank you again, you know, for last night."

"Quinn," Rachel said, frowning slightly "You didn't have to do that. Really, I was glad I could be there for you."

"Well, okay. Never mind, then," Quinn said with a shrug. She turned and started to leave.

"Wait, no! " Rachel said, scrambling after her, grabbing her by the arm.

She saw that Quinn was grinning wickedly and nudged her shoulder playfully.

"I'm sorry," Quinn said. "You're just so..."

"Easy to get," Rachel said, blushing. "You can say it. I'm gullible. It's most annoying sometimes."

"I was just thinking it was kind of sweet, actually," Quinn admitted. "Anyway..."

She reached down and picked up two very large bags that she had placed out of sight and held them out.

"This is for you," she said again. "Just a small token of my undying gratitude which, by the way of FYI, is a very precious commodity.."

"Oh my god, " Rachel said when she saw Frangelico's logo on the side of the bags. "What is this?

"It's one of everything," Quinn told her, shrugging.

Rachel gasped and Quinn thought she might actually levitate off the ground. Instead she squealed loudly and bounced up and down, clapping her hands. She threw her arms around Quinn so hard that she actually stumbled back a few steps.

"Whoa, careful, Rachel! Don't crush the pastries,"she said, laughing. "Theirs or mine."

Quinn let the bags slide to the ground.

"This is so... amazing," Rachel said, still hugging her. "No one ever does stuff like this for me. I mean, ever."

"It's just fancy donuts, Rachel," Quinn said, trying to downplay the gesture. Rachel wasn't having it and Quinn stiffened when she heard a faint sniffle.

"Oh my god, Rachel," she asked nervously. "Are you crying?"

"Nn...nnooo, I'm not, " Rachel stammered, clearly lying. She started wiping furiously at her eyes behind Quinn's back.

"There's no crying with this much sugary goodness to look forward to, " Quinn insisted.

She could feel Rachel giggle even before she heard it.

"I can't believe you remembered, " Rachel admitted. "I didn't even know you were paying attention."

"Yeah, well, it kind of stuck in my head I guess," Quinn said dismissively. The truth was she remembered just about every word of that conversation.

Neither of them seemed particularly uncomfortable with the fact that Rachel was still clinging on to Quinn.

"We could stand like this all day or we could go inside and eat some of this," Quinn observed. "I'm okay with either one."

Rachel chuckled and turned Quinn loose. Quinn picked up the bags, kissed Rachel quickly and walked into the house.

While Rachel busied herself fixing their coffee, Quinn sat at the table and stared openly at her. There was no denying the rush she felt when the hem of Rachel's shirt raised up revealing a tawny smooth expanse of her stomach. Her face grew warm.

"Are you alright?" Rachel asked, noticing her vacant expression. She was now looking at her funny.

"Yeah, why?" Quinn answered more brusquely than she had intended.

"You just look... flush all the sudden," Rachel said, still looking at her, clearly worried. "I hope you aren't coming down with something. Everyone has been coughing lately. Perhaps you should have some herbal tea instead of coffee."

Quinn shook her head.

"I'm sure I'm fine," she insisted. "Coffee, coffee is good."

Before she knew it, Rachel had her hand on her forehead.

"You feel warm to me," she declared. "I'm not at all happy with the way you look."

"I have no idea how to respond to that, " Quinn said. "I don't think anyone's ever said that to me before."

Rachel scoffed lightly and went back into the kitchen. When she finished their coffee, Quinn helped her carry everything upstairs to the patio where they settled in for their feast. They each agreed to picked one to start and Rachel took an agonizingly long time to decide. She went back and forth. She would start to pick one and then pull her hand away.

"Pick one!" Quinn urged.

"They all look so good," Rachel fretted. "I mean, I have to be careful. So much sugar."

"Rachel!" Quinn chastised, rolling her eyes.

"I know, I know," Rachel said. "Okay, maybe...no. Or this..."

"They're all good. Oh, just take something," Quinn pointed out.

Rachel bit her lip and whimpered, unable to decided.

"Oh my god, here, this one!" Quinn picked up one of the items Rachel had been hemming over and put it on her plate.

"See, all good," she declared and licked her fingers.

Rachel noticed that her fingers had been neatly re-bandaged. She wanted to ask about it, but decided against it.

"Gosh, what if we hate something?" she asked instead.

"Blasphemy. I don't know if that's possible," Quinn admitted. "But if we do, we're going to eat it anyway and then never speak of it again."

Rachel chuckled.

"Are you all right?" Quinn asked, staring hard at her.

Rachel bit off a portion of the crueler in her hand and put it back on her plate.

"Yes," she said, spraying powdered sugar everywhere and laughing. "Why do you ask?"

Quinn watched, amused by her struggles.

"I don't know," she said. "You seem a little... off, I guess."

"Mmmm," Rachel said, her mouth full. She chewed rapidly, her hands fluttering around her face. She held up one finger as she paused to sip from her coffee, chasing down the last bite she'd taken.

"I don't know, maybe – I guess I didn't know it showed," she said.

"A bit, yeah," Quinn said. "The eyes mostly are giving you away."

"Well," she said and hesitated. "It's just that – well, I broke up with Finn last night," she continued slowly, watching for Quinn's reaction. "Maybe that has something to do with it."

Quinn's lips pursed and her eyes flashed. Rachel could see it wasn't something she was expecting to hear.

"I'm..." Quinn couldn't bring herself to say "sorry" because she wasn't. "Surprised. Oh my god, is that what you were doing when I called you?"

Rachel shook her head emphatically.

"No, no," she said, laying her hand briefly on Quinn's to calm her. "It happened after I got home. He was waiting here when I came back."

"So, how did, um, what's his name again?" Quinn asked, tilting her head and staring up at the clouds. "Flounder? Flipper?"

Rachel choked slightly, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Finn," she scolded. "You know perfectly well what his name is."

"Right," Quinn said, smirking. "So how did he react. I mean – wait, he wasn't mean to you was he?" Quinn suddenly wasn't joking very much. "He didn't, I don't know, like put his hands – "

Rachel held up her hand and quickly cut her off.

"He didn't do anything like that," she said. "He was upset, of course. Maybe even angry, but I think more than anything he was surprised. I mean, as much as he – well, as much as he – "

"Ignored you, belittled you, treated you like – " Quinn fumed, but Rachel held a finger to her own lips and Quinn stopped.

"As distant as we'd become," Rachel continued. "He still seemed shocked, hurt even." She paused and took a deep breath. "He also made it very clear there was no going back."

They stared at each other, each realizing that things between them were now very different. Rachel reached across the table and took Quinn's hand, holding it.

"It's something I should have done a long time ago," she said, squeezing her fingers.

"Things happen when they're supposed to," Quinn observed, offering a fleeting smile.

"Perhaps," Rachel admitted. "It still feels like I shouldn't have tried to hold on so long. There was nothing there for me. I feel bad that it took me such a ridiculously long time to realize that."

"Don't," Quinn said firmly.

"Quinn, I..." she started, but Quinn interrupted her.

"Rachel, seriously, don't." she repeated.

"Anyway, it's done," Rachel said, flustered "I'm putting it behind me. No regrets."

"Even, so. No wonder you seem kind of, well, not yourself," Quinn remarked.

"I'm okay," Rachel confessed. "I'm sad for some things. And there's some guilt, too. Okay, a lot actually. But this is the first time I was the one who called it quits. I've never done that before."

She looked pensive.

"I'm ashamed to say that I prefer being on this side of the equation for a change," she admitted sheepishly.

"I guess we both lost something last night," Quinn noted somberly.

"Quinn, I wasn't, I mean, I would never even try to compare." Rachel protested. "I mean, it's not even close."

"No, no, I'm just saying that something like that, it's a shock to your system," Quinn explained. "It kind of rattles your world when that happens. I mean, even if you're okay with it, I think it changes you. Maybe that's what I'm sensing. I don't know."

"Maybe," Rachel agreed. "It does feel strange. But the truth is, I feel better about myself today than I have in a really long time. There's so much good in my life right now and now there's nothing standing in my way now to keep me from enjoying it. I'm actually very excited about what's next for me."

Quinn smiled.

"That's nice to know," she said.

Rachel smiled shyly and ducked her head.

"And again, I've managed to make this all about me," Rachel said. "Honestly, I really didn't meant to."

"Say, did you know, you've..." Quinn held up a finger, pointing.

Rachel frowned and her hand moved to her hair.

"What?" she asked, fidgeting. "Is is a bug?"

"You've, you've got a little something...right here," Quinn reached across the table and smeared powdered sugar on Rachel's chin with her thumb. "And right here." She tapped her nose, leaving a powdery fingerprint. "And here, too." Laughing, she flicked her fingers, showering her in sweet snowflakes.

"Stop," Rachel said without conviction and turned away, grabbing for her napkin.

"Here, let me help you," Quinn offered. She grabbed both of Rachel's hands and pulled her across the table, then flicked her tongue up her chin.

"Mmmm, you're sweet," she teased.

Rachel chuckled.

"So are you," she echoed as she pulled one hand free and smeared a line of strawberry filling down Quinn's cheek.

"Ooops, my bad," she said coyly.

"I think we need some – chocolate," Quinn suggested and she reaching for a dainty chocolate-filled pastry with sticky fingers.

"No, no," Rachel cried, batting her hand away. "Don't ruin that one. It's too pretty." She scooped up the chocolate pastry and pulled it away from Quinn, laughing, trying not to crush it.

Quinn jumped up and grabbed her.

"Let me, let me put this down," she pleaded. Quinn took the treat from her and placed it carefully on the table.

"Oh no, look," she teased, turning her attention back to Rachel, who looked dubious. "Now you've got powdered sugar here," She ran her hand down the front of Rachel's shirt, brushing repeatedly across her breast. "Boy, it's sure stubborn." She cupped her hand over and squeezed. Rachel giggled and collapsed against her.

"Oh yes, I can tell you're excited," Quinn teased.

"Ahhhh," Rachel squealed.

"Very excited," Quinn growled.

Rachel laughed loudly as Quinn wrapped her in a bear hug and lifted her off of her feet, kissing up and down her neck.

=^..^=

"I think I'm just going to sit here for a minute," Quinn announced. She was so full of sweets she couldn't even move. "If that's alright."

"Of course it is," Rachel told her. "I'll just be a minute. Make yourself at home."

Quinn wondered if that meant she could she unbutton her jeans, but decided against it.

"There is so much left," Rachel said as she carefully packed away and labeled the leftovers. "Maybe you should take some to work with you."

"Mmmm, we'll see," Quinn said, yawning. "Maybe."

Rachel finished the dishes and quickly tidied up the kitchen then walked back in wiping her hands on a dish towel. She started to say something, but glanced at Quinn first. She had been so quiet and now Rachel knew why. She was slumped against the side of the chair, sleeping soundly. She looked so peaceful Rachel couldn't help but smile.

She walked to the couch, pulled off the throw blanket, then draped it gently over Quinn, tucking it in around her. She bent down and stared into her face. _Angelic _was the word that came immediately to Rachel's mind.

"I love you," she whispered and reached out to push a stray fringe tassel away from Quinn's face. She hoped the slumbering blonde didn't have anyplace she needed to be because she certainly wasn't going to wake her. She kissed her forehead gently and dashed up the steps to get ready for her classes.

Before Rachel left she placed the spare house key next to Quinn's keys where she couldn't miss it.

**=^..^=**


	20. Chapter 20: Dividends

Dividends

"Stop," Quinn muttered.

Again there was the soft, wispy tickling across her face.

"No," she groaned, brushing at her face. "Stop."

Slow, deliberate ticking, like feathers brushing over her.

"Whaaat?," she sputtered as her eyes popped open, startled.

Two round emerald-green eyes peered back at her. A black nose wiggled and moved in to sniff her, whiskers fluttering across her face. A sandpaper tongue began to lap at the sticky remnants of strawberry jam on her cheek.

"Nicky," she said in a rush of relieved breath.

The fat tuxedo cat stopped licking and gave a quick, bored meow in response. He was standing on her lap resting both front paws against her chest. That might explain why her legs were asleep. When she didn't move he brought up an inquisitive paw and patted it against her cheek several times.

"Watch the claws, big man," she cautioned.

He moved his paw back down to her chest, then leaned in and bumped his big square head under her chin, purring loudly. She brought a hand up and scratched behind his head. The purring intensified and the head-butting continued. Quinn chuckled.

"You big fraud. I know your M.O." she told him. "You want something."

Bump, bump. Purr.

"Where's your food?" she asked.

At the mention of the word "food," the big cat yowled and jumped off her lap. He began weaving back and forth in front of her legs, rubbing against them and talking loudly.

"Typical," she said, smirking. "Okay, fat man. Show me."

She stood up with a loud groan and stretched up on her toes to ease the stiffness.

"Okay, let's go," she said and Nicky walked a few paces ahead of her. He kept constantly checking back to make certain that she was following him while warbling yowling noises. She followed him to laundry room where she found personalized, color-coordinated food and water bowls on a black-and-white cat-shaped rug.

"God, Rachel," she said, shaking her head.

Nicky stood up on her legs, his tail swishing back and forth.

"Mawrpp," he bellowed.

"All right," Quinn replied, frowning. "So bossy, high maintenance – just like your mom."

She opened the cabinet above the sink and discovered it was neatly stocked with no less than five different kinds of very high-end wet cat food and at least as many bags of kibble.

"What is all this crap?" she asked aloud, gaping at the ridiculous assortment. "No wonder Rachel claims you're finicky?"

The fat cat plopped down heavily and stared up at her.

"Funny, you sure don't look finicky to me," Quinn told him, as she nudged him gently with her foot. He fell over on his side, then grabbed her shoe and gnawed on it.

"You look spoiled," she scolded. "Very, very spoiled."

Nicky floundered around, then scrambled back to his feet. "Mewp, mewp," he burbled, back to weaving circles around her legs. When that didn't work, he jumped up on the sink and head-butted firmly against her chest.

"All right, fine," she said. She picked up the nearest bag and sprinkled about a quarter of a cup of kibble into his bowl. Nicky jumped down, sniffed at it, and then plopped down on his fluffy hindquarters with a dejected "mew."

"Oh really?" she asked.

He continued to stared into his bowl, then looked up at her.

"Go on," she urged.

He put his paw in it and batted around the kibble a few times, then he began to scoop it out piece-by-piece onto the rug. When the bowl was empty, he looked up at her expectantly.

"That's not going to work, " she told him.

"Mew," he said and placed his foot in the empty dish.

"Nope," she insisted, shaking her head. "Sorry."

"Mowrp," he trilled, digging anxiously with both feet against the stainless steel. "Mowrp, mowrp, mowrp."

Quinn fold her arms, leaned against the dryer and watched him, unimpressed with his antics. He continued to dig for another few minutes and then flopped over on his side, panting. He squeaked out a plaintive mew.

"You rest there," she suggested. "Maybe you'll feel more like eating when you get your second wind."

She walked back into the kitchen and poured herself a class of water. She was nearly finished with it when she heard faint crunching from the laundry room and smiled.

"Spoiled," she muttered into the glass.

Her eyes caught the kitchen clock and she exhaled in frustration. No doubt Rachel thought she was doing her a favor by letting her sleep away the morning, but in reality, it only kicked her stress level into overdrive. The truth was she had hoped to spend a nice, leisurely breakfast with Rachel and perhaps a quick bit of naughty cuddling on her couch, followed by a full day of work. Instead, the combination of fatigue, sugar rush and the confession about Rachel's newly single status bulldozed over her and she crashed hard. Instead of feeling rested, she felt spun out and wildly unfocused. Not to mention her hand throbbed. She'd been ignoring it, but it was definitely getting worse.

Placing her glass in the sink, she walked back the living room and dropped onto the couch. She needed to do something to get back into her groove. There was no denying that the day was a complete wash, but she decided to at least make an appearance at the office. If nothing else, she could reorganize her schedule.

Her phone rang and scattered her thoughts in all directions.

"Hey," she answered without glancing at it, fully expecting it to be Rachel.

"Are you okay?" Santana asked, clearly concerned.

"Sure, fine," she replied in a quick cadence, surprised by the anxious tone. "What's wrong?"

"Puckerman is in wad because he can't find you," she said. "I mean, you know, because of..."

"Yeah," Quinn said tightly.

This is what she'd been trying to avoid – first with Puck at home and now with Santana. Since Puck hadn't called her directly she doubted he was anywhere near as worried as Santana made it sound. No, more likely this was Santana trying play it cool.

"He hasn't called me," Quinn pointed out, shrugging.

"No, but he calls Brittany every half hour to see if you've come in," Santana explained. "And then she calls me."

"Oh," Quinn replied, her tone indifferent. "I just – "

"Look, I know you don't want to talk about – _things_," Santana added quickly, cutting her off. "And that's okay, but I am really sorry about - _things_. And I'm – here, just so you know."

Quinn's defensive posture abated.

"I know, San," she conceded. "Thank you."

"I mean, technically he was your dog, but he really kind of belonged to all of us, you know?" Santana added, her voice breaking.

"I know," Quinn admitted. "I know."

"As for Brit," Santana continued and Quinn groaned. "Yeah well, you're just going to have to deal with her yourself."

Quinn sighed deeply. She couldn't bear the thought of having to talk with Brittany about Pie.

"But she knows, right?" she asked.

"I told her," Santana confirmed.

"Okay, I figured," Quinn remarked, greatly relieved to at least be be spared that conversation.

"I didn't want to risk her finding out from that idiot Puckerman," Santana continued. "She cried - a lot, so maybe that's out of her system."

"Yeah, maybe," Quinn noted. They both sounded thoroughly unconvinced.

"But you're still gonna have to deal with whatever questions she comes up with," Santana continue.  
>"And she will! "<p>

"I know she will," Quinn replied. "No worries, it will be fine." She pressed her fingers into her eyes at the thought of Brittany, wide-eyed and weepy, trying to make sense of things.

"Q, there's only so much I can do," Santana protested. "She's gonna want to talk about it."

"I know, San, I know. Really, I'm good," Quinn assured her. "I'll handle it."

"Please just be, I don't know, patient, I guess," Santana requested, knowing it was a pretty big favor to burden Quinn with in her fragile state.

"Not a problem," Quinn answered quickly, too quickly. "I promise. It'll be fine."

"That's a lot of fine going on," Santana noted.

"It...is," Quinn said.

"We'll leave it there then," Santana decided knowing Quinn would say _fine_ even if she was on fire.

Nicky waddled into the room and made a rollicking beeline for her. He pulled himself clumsily up on the couch and plopped down next to her. When she didn't pet him immediately, he began kneading on her thigh, claws extended. Quinn winced and rolled him onto his back.

Santana exhaled sharply, squaring herself up now that the hard subject was off the table.

"Okay, now. What the hell is going on with your girl?" she asked pointedly.

"I have no idea what that means," Quinn replied, suddenly aware of how exhausted she felt. "What are you talking about?"

Her hand fell instinctively on Nicky's square head. She stroked his silky fur through her fingers and he began to purr and groom her jeans.

Santana scoffed. Apparently she'd exhausted her sympathy quotient for the day and no longer felt the need to be diplomatic.

"Obviously I mean Berry," she said. "She's, like, a complete fucking mess today. Not just her normal Rachel drama llama nonsense either," Santana complained. "Oh no, I'm talking a whole new level of bite Santana in the ass."

Quinn heard the snick of her lighter. If she was smoking in her office, she was well and truly frazzled.

"I don't – know, " Quinn sputtered, caught by surprise. "She was fine this morning. Maybe she's just tired. It was a long night for her, too."

"Nope," Santana said, dismissing the notion immediately. "I've seen Rachel tired. She's _been_ tired. This is something else. She unfocused, uncooperative, moody as hell, rude, slamming doors, stomping off. One minute she's screaming, the next minute she's sobbing."

Santana made hiccuping, gulping sobs that Quinn recognized instantly. She mulled over what Santana was telling her.

"Hmm," she said softly.

"That's not helpful, Q. 'Hmm' is not a helpful thing," Santana insisted brusquely. "Is she on crack?"

"No," Quinn scoffed.

"You would tell me though, right? Meth? Huffing?" Santana continued. "Does she have 'AD/HD?' She seems like the type – overachiever, insecure..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Quinn snapped, genuinely angry. "Just stop it! Sugar and caffeine are the only things she's on today or any other day. Those are the only vices Rachel – oh."

She stopped mid-sentence, remembering.

"Oh?" Santana repeated. "What oh? Tell me what 'oh' is."

"Um," Quinn hemmed, uncertain about betraying Rachel's confidences.

"That's not much more than oh," Santana chided. "You have to give me something more than grunts, Quinn. Otherwise, I may have to kill her. I mean it, Q. If she stomps that foot and snaps that head one more time I am going to fucking lose it."

"It's just... " Quinn said, hesitantly.

"Spill!" Santana snapped. "Don't make me hunt you down, Blondie!"

"Um," Quinn said, still debating. "Hmmm."

"Great, we're back to fucking chanting again?" Santana grumbled. "Fabray!"

"She dumped him," Quinn blurted out and then bit her lip, wishing she hadn't.

"What?" Santana prodded. "Who?"

Quinn could tell the expression on her face just by the tone.

"She broke up with – him," Quinn explained reluctantly.

"Oh, the Bumble? No way!" Santana exclaimed in a shocked whisper. "Wait, we are talking about Finn Hudson right?"

"Yes, of course, we are, " Quinn barked, annoyed. "It happened sometime early this morning," she continued. "I guess he was waiting for her after she dropped me off. Sorry to disappoint, but I didn't really get the details. She said she wasn't upset about it, but maybe –I don't know, maybe she really was and just wanted to hide it from me."

"Wow," Santana exclaimed in hushed tones.

"Yeah," Quinn echoed. "I was... surprised."

"You're sure _she_ broke it off?" Santana asked pointedly.

"That's what she told me," Quinn confirmed.

"Hmm," Santana hemmed aloud, clearly skeptical.

"I don't think she'd lie about it," Quinn said defensively. "If he broke it off I think she'd tell me."

"Uh huh," Santana replied, half listening. "Maybe not. Probably not. Who cares who dumped who? It's just – I'm just curious why she didn't tell me," Santana smoothed her hand across her chin. "It's not like I'm not going to find out," she added quietly, mostly thinking out loud to herself.

"We both know why she didn't tell you," Quinn remarked. "Rachel's not a fool. She knows how you were drooling over his family connections."

Santana's mouth dropped open and she feigned shock, even though Quinn couldn't see her. It was just a habit.

"Why I...was doing no such thing," she protested weakly.

Quinn smirked at the feeble effort.

"Seriously though, I mean, that did Rachel so much good, right?" Santana protested. "Please, the jerk couldn't help his own girlfriend get work."

"Or wouldn't," Quinn interjected.

"Besides, I can pitch ideas to the old man without any family connections," Santana noted. "I don't need his witless offspring as a go-between."

"I guess," Quinn agreed half-heartedly. Now she, too, was wondering why Rachel hadn't told Santana about her breakup. "San, listen, don't say anything."

Santana chortled loudly at the absurd request.

"You're joking, right?" she wheezed.

"No, I mean it!" Quinn insisted. "Let her tell you on her own."

"Why?" Santana yelped unhappily. "What difference does it make?"

"Just don't," Quinn pleaded. "I don't want her to think I'm going to run to you with things."

.

Santana made a raspy, choking sound.

"So what am I supposed to do with the tiny tyrant until then?" she whined.

"Just handle it, Santana," Quinn snapped, her grip on the phone getting tighter. "That is what you're paid to do isn't it?"

"Yeah, you might want to throttle back with that attitude," Santana warned lightly. Grief or no grief, Santana's patience had its limits and Quinn was pushing the borders.

"Well, isn't it?" Quinn repeated. She knew Santana's silence wasn't a sign that she was mulling over a thoughtful response. "San, look, I'm sorry. Seriously – I know how... trying Rachel can be."

"Uh huh," Santana agreed, her tone frosty.

"So please just be, I don't, patient, I guess," she asked slowly and Santana's eyes rolled back into her head as she realized she'd just been very deftly handled.

"Fine," she said through clenched teeth. "Whatever."

Quinn smirked.

"We're done here," Santana announced.

"Sounds like," Quinn agreed.

Best to end the conversation before somebody said something that couldn't be taken back.

"So, like, don't be...sad," Santana added, her tone softer, sincere. She knew it was a ridiculous request, but felt the need to say it anyway.

"I'll do my best," Quinn replied.

"Same here. Oh yay, look," she said with insincere excitement. She held up her cell phone as though Quinn could see it. "Rachel has texted me 15 times while we were talking," she muttered. "I'm sure that's some more good news."

She groaned dramatically and hung up.

"Be careful what you wish for, Santana," Quinn said under her breath.

"Mawrp," Nicky chirped, tilting his head up at her.

"Did you hear that? Your mama's a drama llama today," Quinn told the big lumpy cat, ruffling his ears.

"Mew," he replied, clutching her hand with both of his wooly front paws. She chuckled and rolled him back and forth as he purred happily. She played with him for a while longer, then forced herself to stop procrastinating. Nicky protested loudly when she got up. She bent and kissed him loudly on the head.

"Be nice to your mother," she told him. "She's had a hard day."

He trilled back at her.

When she scooped up her her keys, she noticed Rachel's spare key and pause. Clearly it had been deliberately placed where she couldn't miss it. Quinn hesitated, then snatched it up, slipped it into her pocket, and walked out. Nicky stood watching out the front window as her car pulled away, then he flopped down with his chin resting on the sill.

By the time Quinn pulled into the rear lot at her office, all the vehicles were gone. She'd stopped by the same Urgent Care Rachel had suggested and let them clean and bandage her bite wounds and had gotten a tetanus shot for her troubles.

She let herself in the back door and turned only to be rushed by Brittany, who pulled her into a suffocating hug.

"We've been so worried about you," the blonde scolded, squeezing her fiercely.

"I know," Quinn sighed, surrendering and letting her head fall on Brittany's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I just..." Quinn's mind worked, trying to think of an excuse besides the truth. Finding none, she confessed. "Well, I just fell asleep."

"That's no excuse," Brittany chastised. "You still could have called."

"You're right," Quinn admitted, now feeling guilty on top of everything else. "I should have. I'm just, it's been...sorry."

"It's okay if you're sad," Brittany added gently. "Just be sad here so we don't worry. We won't bother you."

"You're right," Quinn repeated. Whether she actually agreed or not there was no point in arguing with Brittany.

"Okay, then, " Brittany said, stepping away from her.

Quinn flashed her a weak smile and Brittany smiled back. Quinn opened her mouth to say she was going to her office, but never got a word out before Brittany burst into tears and ran out of the room. Quinn's head dropped and she stared hard at the floor.

"Damn it," she mumbled under her breath.

Exhaling loudly, she herself to walk down the hallway following the faint sounds of crying. Brittany was sitting at her desk putting stuff into her purse and sniffling. She saw Quinn approaching and shook her head.

"I'm okay, " she insisted, but Quinn didn't stop moving towards her. "Really, I am."

Quinn knelt down beside her.

"Then why are you crying?" she asked. Brittany flopped her arms up and down like a rag doll.

"Because I'm just sad," she explained. "Santana said I had to try and be sneaky sad, because...so I don't...but I can't."

The explanation brought a fresh wave of tears. Quinn took her fingers and squeezed them.

"It's okay, B," she said. She put her head in Brittany's lap and closed her eyes. "I guess we can be sad together, okay?"

"Mmm hmm," Brittany said, hiccuping. "Maybe we won't be sad tomorrow."

"Maybe. As long as it takes, B" Quinn said.

Brittany picked at loose tape on her bandage.

"Did you cut yourself?" she asked.

"Not exactly," she answered, hoping to avoid the truth. She didn't want to have to explain to Brittany that Pie had bitten her.

"Do you think he was scared?" she asked, brushing her fingers through Quinn's hair.

"I hope not," Quinn replied. She didn't want think about it very much.

"Me, too," Brittany agreed. She leaned down and pressed her lips to Quinn's head and hugged her. Quinn didn't cry, but Brittany did and they stayed huddled together until she stopped.

"Feel better?" Quinn asked and Brittany gave her a watery smile and a nod.

"Time to go home," Quinn announced, pushing herself to her feet.

She pulled Brittany up, hugged her, then walked her to her car. "It'll be better tomorrow," she told her. Brittany looked doubtful, but nodded anyway and slid behind the wheel. Quinn close the door and pressed the lock.

"Drive safe," she instructed.

"As a church mouse," Brittany promised.

Quinn shook her head, grinning.

"That's quiet, honey," she corrected.

"I'll be quiet, too," Brittany assured her and held a finger to her lips. Quinn chucked her on chin, which made her smile. She watched as Brittany backed out and turned out into traffic, then she went back inside and holed up in her office.

She worked at her desk until she began to feel warm and achy. She downed three aspirin and moved over to the couch. _Just _f_or a few minutes_, _just until the aspirin kick in_ she told herself as she closed her eyes.

She sat up, disoriented.

_Not again _was her first thought as she fumbled around on the couch searching for her phone. A heavy banging noise sent her heartbeat into overtime.

"The fuck?" she gasped as someone pounded heavily on the back door.

She stumbled off the couch and skulked down the hallway. There was a pry bar resting against a shelf and she reached for it as she passed. The pounding started up again, hard and heavy, and she could feel the vibrations on the ground as she drew closer. She flattened herself against the door, her eye to the peephole, but it was so cracked and fogged over she couldn't make out any features, only a dark shadow.

"That's safe," she sniped.

More pounding and she jumped back, pipe raised at the ready.

"We're closed!" she yelled gruffly. "Go away."

"Quinn?" came a vaguely familiar voice from the other side.

"Yeah?" she answered, slipping the key into the deadbolt.

"Who's there?" she asked, warily. "What do you want?"

"Quinn, it's me," the voice called. "Sam, Sam Evans."

"Sam," Quinn echoed, fighting with the finicky lock. She opened the door and found Sam staring at her. She opened her mouth to ask what he was doing there, but he was roughly elbowed aside as Rachel barreled into her, clutching around her waist.

"I've been calling you for hours," she confessed, her voice cracking. "I finally called Brittany and she said you might still be here."

"And here I am," Quinn remarked, making light. She hugged Rachel to her chest and could feel the pent-up energy coming off of her.

"Don't do that, it's not funny," Rachel scolded seriously. "I've been really worried."

"'I'm sorry," Quinn replied, trying to gather her thoughts. She remembered searching for her phone. "My phone, I must have...misplaced it somewhere."

Sam tugged the metal bar out of her fingers. She didn't even realize she was still holding it.

"You won't need this," he said and he placed it inside the door.

"Get your things. We're taking you home," Rachel announced. "Sam, get her things."

Sam froze, blinking nervously. One didn't simply go "get" Quinn Fabray's things.

"No, don't be silly," Quinn protested. "I can get myself home."

Rachel exhaled loudly.

"Listen to me," she said, firmly pushing Quinn to arms length. "It's been a long...ridiculously unpleasant day. I'm frustrated. I'm beyond exhausted."

"All the more reason," Quinn said, but Rachel huffed, cutting her off.

"As I was saying, I'm exhausted," she repeated pointedly. "But there's no way I can sleep until I know that you're safely home. So again, get your things. We're taking you home."

Quinn could tell by her tone and the expression on her face there was no point in arguing with her so she simply nodded.

"I'll just lock up," she said.

Tired or not, there was no mistaking how pleased Rachel was to have gotten her way. She was still wearing a please smile when Quinn climbed into the car beside her.

"What's that grin about," Quinn teased, knowing full well. Rachel shrugged innocently. She slide over and reached for Quinn's hand, then noticed the bandage.

"You did this?" she asked.

Quinn shook her head.

"I went and had it looked it," she replied. She could see Rachel looked relieved.

"So you're okay then?"she asked, turning her over hand and holding it carefully.

"Sore, but better," Quinn admitted.

She let her head fall back on the seat and closed her eyes. She thought Rachel might have said, "I'm glad," but she couldn't be sure.

****=^..^=****

"Home, sweet, home," Sam said loudly as he turned up Quinn's drive.

Rachel's eyes fluttered open slowly.

"Hmmm," she groaned. "Whazz that?"

"Quinn's place," Sam said. He put the car in park and pointed at the porch with the gleaming light.

"Oooh," Rachel acknowledged, rubbing her eyes. She nudged Quinn, who grunted and moved away, taking Rachel's hand with her. Rachel leaned over and pressed a kiss beneath her jaw.

"You're home," she whispered. Quinn grimaced and forced her eyes open. Sam scrambled out and opened the car door. She and Rachel both winced as light flooded the interior.

"Come on," Quinn said, her voice thick with sleep. Her grip on Rachel's hand tightened. They climbed out slowly.

"Go home, Sam," she murmured as he close the door behind them.

"Wait, what?" Rachel asked.

"Home, you know?" Quinn muttered, wondering why it wasn't obvious. She started up the walk, tugging on Rachel's hand.

"Sam, wait here," Rachel said and Quinn halted.

"Go home, Sam," she countered, giving Rachel a confused look. Sam remained motionless, rooted to the spot, and Quinn shifted her eyes to him.

"Well?" she demanded, her gaze hardening until he flinched and looked away.

Rachel caught the last few seconds of the exchange and rolled her eyes.

"Stop doing that," she scolded and put a reassuring hand on Sam's arm. "Just ignore her, Sam. Wait here. I won't be long."

He nodded.

"Yes, she will," Quinn argued. "Because she's staying."

"I...no, no, I can't," Rachel said with a drawn out whimper as she fell heavily against Quinn.

"You can," Quinn insisted, nuzzling her neck. Rachel melted into her arms. "You wanted to stay last night, right? So stay tonight."

"Quinn, please," she pleaded without conviction.

"Go away, Sam," Quinn said with her eyes narrowed at him.

"No," Rachel countered, abruptly pulling herself away from Quinn. "No Sam, stay."

"Go," Quinn ordered brusquely.

"Stay," Rachel repeated, her jaw jutting out and her brow creased.

"Sam!" Quinn growled.

Sam's eyes widened as he glanced back and forth between them, trying to decide which one he feared disobeying more.

"Sam," Rachel said quietly, leaning in closer to him. "Please wait for me." He nodded and avoided any further eye contact with Quinn. "You come with me."

She ook Quinn by the hand, pulled her up the walk to the door, then waited as she unlocked it. Quinn nudged Rachel inside, then immediately turned and began gesturing wildly for Sam to make himself scarce. Sam, however, had developed an intense fascination with the flickering street light.

"Hey, Chauffeur-boy," Quinn hissed, determined to get his attention without attracting Rachel's. "I know you see me. Don't make me come out..."

She suddenly sensed Rachel was behind her.

"Really Quinn?" she asked, clucking her tongue in disapproval. She grabbed a fistful of the back of Quinn's shirt and hauled her stumbling backwards into the house. Quinn huffed and scowled fiercely in protest, but Rachel ignored her blustering.

"Seriously, leave Sam alone," she insisted. "He's a sweetheart. Now go, scoot."

"But I'm not sure that's lock," Quinn fretted, reaching for the door.

"Go!" Rachel said.

She physically turned Quinn and walked behind her, prodding her. Any time Quinn stalled, Rachel would dig her shoulder into her back or slap her butt to get her moving again. It became more a game than a true test of wills and Quinn was grinning by the time they reached the door to her bedroom.

"Are you tucking me in, Miss Berry?" she asked coyly as she stepped across the threshold.

"I am," Rachel replied, backing up against the door, shutting it. She came up behind Quinn and swept her arms around her waist, pressing her face against her back. She inhaled deeply, drinking in her scent, her warmth, her...Quinn.

"Mmm, you're very...snuggly," she murmured.

Quinn clasped her hands over Rachel's.

"I specialize in snuggly," Quinn informed her.

Rachel snicked. It was so something Quinn wouldn't normally say.

"You_ can _stay, you know," she added hopefully.

"Don't do this," Rachel warned.

"Seriously, just to sleep." Quinn added quickly. She turned and gathered Rachel against her. The little brunette exhaled loudly, then whimpered in protest.

"Right, sleep," she said, shaking her head.

_She wants to say yes. If I just...nudge her. _

"Let me go chase off your ride," Quinn offered casually. She rested her cheek on the top of Rachel's head as she waited quietly for an answer.

"I'm supposed to be tucking you in," Rachel said, her eyes bright. "Not letting you talk me into your bed."

She looked up at her and pouted.

"But you're making this impossible," she whimpered.

"Good," Quinn admitted, smirking.

"No," Rachel sighed. "Not good."

"But you like me talking you into my bed," Quinn said confidently. "Right?"

Rachel scoffed softly, but very deliberately began undoing the buttons of Quinn's shirt. Quinn watched intently, keeping her twitchy hands anchored on Rachel hips. It wasn't until she reached the last button that she peered up through her lashes at Quinn.

"Don't you?" Quinn repeated the question.

Rachel slipped the last button, then smoothed her hands up Quinn's chest and pushed the shirt off her shoulders. Quinn let her arms drop and it fell to the floor. Rachel fluttered her hands over Quinn's bare skin, tracing the curve of her bra with her fingertips. Quinn's breath hitched when Rachel planted warm kisses between her breasts.

She bent until her face was right against Rachel's, so close she could feel her breath on her cheek.

"Don't you?" she whispered.

Rachel turned her head, her lips finding Quinn's.

"Mmmm hmmm," she murmured. Her hands slid down to Quinn's breasts at that same moment Quinn's hands dropped down over the swell of her ass. There was a gasp of surprise when Quinn picked her up. She was afraid she might protest, but her fears vanished when Rachel locked her legs around her hips and hungrily crushed their mouths together.

Quinn back up and dropped down on the edge of the bed. Rachel wiggled in her lap as her hands roamed over her.

"This," Rachel said, dropping her lips to Quinn's throat. "This is why I'm going home."

"I know," Quinn admitted. She watched as Rachel pulled down her bra and swiped her tongue across a taut nipple. "But...ohhh," Rachel nipped making Quinn shudder, swallow hard and stammer. "But...but not, not yet."

Rachel smiled. She liked the idea that Quinn wasn't ready to be apart from her. That she wanted her kissing her, touching her.

"Mmm, okay," she agreed.

Quinn cupped a hand to the back of her head and pulled her mouth back to her breasts.

"That's...yeah," she groaned.

She tried to reach a hand inside Rachel shirt, but it was pushed away. She waited patiently, letting Rachel distract her. When her second attempt was rebuffed as well, she complained.

"Okay, no fair," Quinn insisted, pulling at Rachel's shirt.

"Careful," Rachel said, grabbing Quinn's hands "It's vintage. Let me."

She undid the buttons and her shirt dropped open, exposing her breasts. She moaned eagerly as Quinn leaned in to kiss them. There was much mutual moaning and heavy breathing at first, but Rachel grew quiet and Quinn drew her face up so she could see her eyes.

"I'm sorry," she said, her strength ebbing. "It's just, I'm so tired."

Quinn kissed her, cupping her cheeks.

"I'm being selfish," she admitted. "You should go." Rachel whined. She twisted away and put her head on Quinn's shoulder.

"No. no," she said, her voiced trailing off. "Not yet."

Quinn cuddled her. This would be enough. She just wanted her close.

"You know, Santana called me," she told her, changing the mood. Rachel exhaled wearily.

"She's not very... happy with me," she said, her voice dull.

"She'll get over it," Quinn said. The way she said it made Rachel laugh. "Well, eventually."

"I don't know. I get the distinct impression that I'm not living up to her expectations," Rachel continued.

"Few people do," Quinn noted, kissing her temple. She rubbed her hand back and forth across Rachel's stomach. "The trick is to stop worrying about it."

"No, she's, she's right," Rachel said. "Did she say I was a brat today?"

Quinn chuckled.

"I don't remember hearing that word," she said.

"Well, I wasn't on my game today. Everything felt... I don't know." She scrubbed her face against Quinn's shoulder.

"Tell me," Quinn coaxed.

"Kind of in a free fall, you know?" she explained. "It's hard to put into words."

"Try," Quinn pressed. Rachel's brow furrowed.

"Hmm, later," she said, closing down the subject, leaving Quinn with more questions than answers. "I just wanna not think about anything."

"We can do that," Quinn said, willing to let it go for the moment. She felt herself nod off and jerked awake. She eased back, hoping to lay down. "Let's just rest a minute."

"No, you can't," Rachel said, tugging at her. "We can't do that."

"Rachel, be reasonable," Quinn groaned. "Just stay here tonight. Last night you were practically begging to stay. So why not now?"

"Quinn, no. It's so far and I have to be up so early. It just takes too long to go home and get ready," she explained.

"Fine, but I'm still gonna lay down," Quinn said, going limp, forcing Rachel to hold her up.

"You can't, not yet," Rachel whimpered, struggling to keep Quinn upright. "Not until..."

"Until what?" Quinn asked impatiently.

"Sit up and I'll tell you," Rachel bargained.

"I don't know," Quinn teased. "That bed is awfully comfy."

"Come on, Quinn, just..." Rachel fretted. "Sit...up!"

Quinn smirked and sat up.

"I'm up, what is so important?" she asked. Rachel whispered shyly in Quinn's ear and Quinn couldn't help but smile.

"I thought you were tired?" she said. Rachel bit her lip and shook her head. Quinn kissed her face. "Hmmm, I dunno. I'm awfully tired."

Rachel frowned and smacked her against the shoulder.

"Maybe you could do it and I could just watch," she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Uh, no," Rachel scoffed, like the suggestion was ridiculous.

"Why not," Quinn asked, leaning against her. "I think it's kinda hot."

Rachel frowned and shook her head.

"Ahh, well, I see how it is now," Quinn said. "You're just using me for sex."

Rachel kissed her, giggling.

"Oh fine." Quinn agree. "I'll do all the work, but you owe me."

"Mmmm hmmm," was all Rachel answered, snuggling against her.

Quinn wiggled back against the headboard and pulled Rachel across her lap.

Rachel leaned her forehead into Quinn's and brushed her fingers across her cheeks, moaning deeply, as Quinn held her hips and rocked her thigh up between her legs. She repeated this slowly several times until Rachel's eyes were closed and she was gasping each time she bumped against her.

"Oh, that's making me..." she squeaked.

"I know," Quinn replied. There was no mistaking the wetness seeping through her jeans.

"More," Rachel urged.

Quinn pushed her hand down between them, cupping her. Rachel whined and squirmed against her fingers.

"Remember that thing,"she said.

Quinn moved her fingers inside her panties, rubbing over her. Rachel's eyes widened and her mouth gaped open.

"Ohhh," she sighed.

"This?" Quinn asked. "Or this?"

"Ohh, ohhh, that, yes, don't...stop," Rachel panted.

Her hand twisted in the pillow behind Quinn's head and she leaned in to suck on her bottom lip. Quinn would bring her close only to ease off and start slowly again until she had Rachel quivering desperately for release.

"If only you weren't leaving," she said, slowing again and Rachel fussed.

"Making me... crazy," she panted, eyes closed.

"We could stop," Quinn suggested. She stilled her hand.

"No!" Rachel growled. "Don't tease."

Quinn laughed and kissed her, her fingers moving again, painfully slow.

"Rachel," she whispered low, brushing her lips against her ear.

"Hmmm,'" she grunted.

"Are you mine?"

"Yes," Rachel's eyes flew open and she stared at her. She hadn't been expecting this.

"Do you understand me?" Quinn asked.

"God, yes, yes," Rachel gushed.

"I want you with me," Quinn continued, moving deliberately faster, pushing her higher.

"That's... ahhhh," Rachel moaned deeply. "What...what... what I want."

"To come?" Quinn teased, flicking her tongue in her ear. "Or to be with me?"

"You, oh god, I love... you, want...you," she gasped before she tensed and jerked, then broke into a million pieces. Quinn caught her as she collapsed against her, cradling her. She drifted off again and stirred to find Rachel fumbled with the button on her jeans.

"Another time," she said, kissing her brow. "You need to go home."

Rachel dropped her head down Quinn's chest and closed her eyes.

"I will," she said. I will. I just...I just want..."

"Shhhhh," Quinn said.

"Oh noooo!" Rachel gasped, sitting up suddenly. She groaned and rubbed her eyes roughly, realizing that they had done exactly what she feared and fallen asleep. Quinn was sprawled beneath her, bra tugged down, pants partially unzipped, her face peaceful.

"Oh, Quinn, wake up," she said in a panic, shaking her. "Wake...up."

Quinn flinched and grunted.

"Whyyyyyy?" she grumbled, not understanding all the fuss. She reached a hand up to stroke Rachel's breast, but Rachel pushed it away.

Quinn scowled and scoffed.

"You weren't doing that earlier," she said flatly. Determined, she moved her hand to Rachel's thigh, tracing slow circles with her thumb. She wondered if she'd slap her hand away if she moved it higher?

"I knew this would happennnn," Rachel whined. She began alternately fumbling with the buttons on her shirt and fussing with her hair. "What, what, what time is it? God, why don't you have a clock in here?"

_Because I'm not a neurotic... no...don't answer that._

Quinn squinted at the clock on her desk.

"Geez, calm down. It's only been like 30 minutes," she replied.

Rachel huffed.

"Don'tsay that," she replied. She hated when people told her to "calm down." She put both hands on Quinn's bare stomach and pushed herself off of her. Quinn huffed as the breath was pressed out of her.

Rachel disappeared into the bathroom and Quinn could hear a steady stream of manic commentary, no doubt Rachel scolding herself. When she emerged her skirt was straightened and smoothed, her blouse buttoned and neatly tucked, and her hair freshly brushed. She stood and looked at Quinn who had made no effort to collect herself.

_God I want you_, she thought.

"So... is this how it's gonna be whenever we sleep together?" Quinn griped, only halfway joking. "If we ever manage to do that?"

Rachel frowned. She walked over and sat down beside her.

"Hi," she said, smiling.

"Hi," Quinn answered, mugging back at her with sleepy eyes. Her hand fell easily back to Rachel's thigh. "You look nice."

"I was just thinking the same about you," Rachel said, fingertips tousling Quinn's messy hair. She tapped her index finger on a pink nipple and Quinn chuckled. The hand slid higher up Rachel's thigh and she flexed her fingers. Rachel bent down and planted a kiss on Quinn's stomach and proceeded to lick and kiss her way up until she was resting against her.

"I'll walk you out," Quinn offered. She made a weak attempt to sit up, but Rachel pressed her back down with a hand against her chest. She rested her weight against her letting her fingers dance over her bare skin. Touching her, she didn't feel so anxious anymore.

"No, silly," she said with a laugh. "That defeats the whole purpose." She kissed her lazily, her fingers tickling beneath her chin. "This was nice."

"While it lasted," Quinn said. Rachel whined and let her head fall against her and Quinn kissed her head. "I meant what I said."

"I know," Rachel said.

"I need to see more of you," she repeated.

Rachel lifted her head.

"I like you seeing more of me," she sassed back.

"Ha ha," Quinn remarked dryly. She leaned back and closed her eyes. "Such a funny chickadee."

"Sweet dreams." Rachel whispered, kissing her chest.

"Mmmm," Quinn purred, managing a drowsy smile. "You, too."

"And no, it isn't always going to be this way," Rachel said, answering Quinn's earlier question. "Not at all."

She found her mouth again and kissed her, lightly at first, then harder. Quinn felt her stomach flutter as she pushed her tongue into her mouth. Her sleepy eyes widened when she felt Rachel's hand push inside her pants and she groaned in approval as her fingers began to stroke her.

"Oh, that's...that's..." she gasped, squeezing her eyes tightly shut.

"Is it okay?" Rachel asked, sucking at the corner of her mouth. "I'm not sure ..."

"Yes, yes, yes," Quinn whimpered, her eyes rolling back. Truth was it was more than a bit clumsy, but very unexpected, which heightened the effectiveness. She pressed her lips against Rachel's ear and whispered "yes, there," "harder," "faster" and Rachel complied. Quinn felt herself starting to tense and shake, hovering on the edge.

"Go inside," she said, licking Rachel's ear.

Rachel tentatively tucked her fingers inside her, pushing once, twice. She pressed her lips against Quinn's throat. "You are mine," she said, then bit down hard, claiming her. Quinn cried out sharply, grabbing Rachel's wrist

"Rachel," was all she said before she fell wonderfully apart smothered in Rachel's kisses.

"Mmmm," Quinn moaned.

She lay still, smiling, her eyes closed. Even now, she still felt twinges and tension. It wouldn't take much to set her off again and she was acutely aware of Rachel's hand resting low on her stomach. Another time she'd place it back between her thighs, but for now she hoped that Rachel was asleep and wouldn't risk waking her. She'd just live with the lingering itch.

Rachel stirred. She nuzzled her face against Quinn's shoulder as her hand came to rest on Quinn's chest. Quinn held her breath, hoping, but to her dismay Rachel shifted and sat up. She pushed her knuckle into her eye, then stretched and yawned. Quinn watched through heavily-lidded eyes. She couldn't stop staring at her breasts, nipples peaked, clearly visible against her shirt. Rachel brushed her fingertips across them as though trying to brush them away. The twitch between Quinn's legs grew stronger.

Rachel glanced down at her.

"I know you're awake," she said.

"I ..." Quinn said, but Rachel stopped her, holding fingers against her lips.

"Don't...say...anything," she said. "Just...no."

Quinn very deliberately licked her fingers. Rachel growled in frustration and forced herself to get up and walk away. She disappeared into the bathroom, then reappeared. Quinn let her reach the door before she sat up and called to her.

"Rachel, come here," she beckoned, but Rachel knew better and kept her distance. They both knew if she went back, she'd never be able to leave.

"Just for minute," Quinn pleaded, pouting enticingly. Rachel shook her head and blew a kiss.

"Fine, just have your way with me and then leave," Quinn said. She grinned and fell back against her pillow. "I see how you are now. "

"I'll call you later," Rachel promised.

"That's what they all say," Quinn answered, smirking.

"I love you," Rachel said.

"Oh, they all say that, too," Quinn said, feigning indifference.

Rachel crossed her arms and scowled at her, unamused.

"I love you, too," Quinn purred.

"And I supposed that's what you say to all of them?" Rachel remarked, unsmiling.

"You know that's not true," Quinn replied.

"Hmmph," Rachel grunted.

"There's only you," Quinn insisted.

"You're so lucky I find you irresistible," she warned.

"I know," Quinn agreed.

Rachel turned off the light. She counted silently to herself.

_Eight, nine, ten._

She scurried back, quickly groped and kissed Quinn, and dashed out of the house. She could hear Quin laughing as she pulled the front door shut. There was a faint "click," but she double-checked it just to be sure.

_What was Quinn always telling her? You couldn't be too careful. _

Satisfied all was secure, she started down the sidewalk, humming to herself, a smile playing on her lips.

_Mine. _

She marveled how she could get so much pure happiness out of such a small word.

"_Are you mine?" Yes, yes, and most definitely, yes. _

"Oh shit, Sam," she gasped, startled as he jumped out of the car and rushed to open the door for her. She'd all but forgotten he was waiting.

"Just me," he said with a shy smile.

"I'm so sorry that took so long," she said. She was sorry he had to wait, but not about anything else. A warm flush crept up her cheek and she hoped he couldn't see her blushing in the dim light of the driveway. "We... I fell asleep."

"No problem," he said quickly, hoping to avoid a detailed explanation. It was bad enough seeing Rachel with Quinn. He didn't want to have to hear about it as well. To his relief she touched his arm briefly and slid into the car. She fell asleep almost immediately sparing him the need to make awkward small talk. He cracked the car window, hoping the rush of fresh air would sweep away the unmistakable scent of sex and Quinn Fabray that lingered in the car.

****=^..^=****

Quinn walked into the house and put the grocery bags on the counter.

It had been almost a week since Pie died, but she still expected to see him when she came through the door. Realizing she wouldn't kept the wound fresh. Puck offered to take up the visible reminders: his dish, his bed, his leash, his toys, if only to pack them away, but Quinn wouldn't let him. Not yet, it felt too soon.

Eager for distraction, she couldn't miss Puck straddling a kitchen chair in the middle of the living room. He was resting his chin on the back rail, nursing a beer and staring at the patio door.

"What's going on?" she asked as she began unpacking the grocery bags.

"Watching," he replied.

He chucked his chin and pointed to the patio door. Quinn followed his finger and saw that Loki was sprawled sideways in front of the door, practically motionless. Only the very tip of his tail twitched. He appeared to be gazing out into the yard.

"Still?" Quinn asked.

"Yup," Puck replied. "Same thing, every day."

For the first couple of days after Pie's demise, Loki shadowed Quinn's every step. If she sat down, he sat next to her. Wherever she was, he was. He slept curled in a ball next to her head on her pillow. Sometimes she would feel him pat her face in the dark as though checking to see if she was still...there. She wondered if he was thinking she'd eventually bring Pie home or worried she might disappear as well.

Before she could figure it all out, Loki vanished. At first she thought he was just hiding, which he did sometimes, tucked away, lurking, watching, and coming out only at night. After two days without a sighting Quinn became obsessed with finding him. She and Puck went room-by-room and turned the house inside out, but found no trace of him. She was the first to wonder out loud if he'd escaped and run away.

"I don't think so, Q, " Puck said, rubbing his head. "I think we would have seen him."

"Then why can't we find him?" Quinn asked, looking for some reasonable explanation to comfort herself.

Puck shrugged.

"Maybe he squirreled his way up into the ceiling or the dryer vent or something and, I don't know, just died," Puck said, thinking out loud.

"Fuck you for saying that, Puck!" Quinn snarled.

"Wait, no – I was just..." he sputtered.

"Being an asshole," she declared and stomped off down the stairs.

"Quinn, come on, he's not dead," he called after her. "We'd smell it if he was."

"Shut the fuck up, Puck!" she yelled up the stair. "I mean it!"

He started after her, but once he heard her door slam he knew better than to follow.

He tried to apologize all the following day, but she would just turn and walk away whenever she saw him. Desperate to make amends, he called Rachel and explained the situation.

"Don't worry. Leave it to me," she told him.

She skipped out on her evening class and appeared on Quinn's doorstep hoping her presence might lure Loki out or at least ease Quinn's mind. When the former didn't happen, she spent the evening on the couch consoling a distraught Quinn.

"Stupid Puck," Quinn grumbled. "I can't believe he called you."

Quinn put her head in Rachel's lap and Rachel threaded her fingers through her hair.

"I cant believe you didn't," Rachel counteracted.

"Why? I didn't know anything. I mean, he's... I'm just being..." Quinn rambled, her voice breaking. Tears rolled down her cheek. "God, this is getting to be a habit."

"No, it's not," Rachel argued gently, wiping her face. "Cut yourself some slack for a change."

"I'm so sorry you missed a class for..." Quinn couldn't finish. Rachel bent and kissed her.

"Some cat's meow, huh?" Quinn said.

"Stop," Rachel soothed. "It will all work out."

She gathered her close and rocked her until she fell asleep. When she awoke in the quiet before dawn Rachel was gone, but Loki was sleeping on her chest. She put her hand on him and he instantly began to purr.

In the two days since he had been a veritable slug. He would pick a spot and stay all day, barely moving, not even to eat.

Puck guzzled noisily on his beer as the two of them watched the lethargic little cat.

"How long has he been like that?" Quinn asked.

"Dunno," he replied. "He was like that when I came home and he's been there ever since."

"Did you feed him?" she asked.

"I filled his dish," he told her. "But he didn't get up. I even opened a can of that vile wet food he likes so much." Puck shook his head. "Nothing."

"Where is it?" Quinn asked, glancing around.

"Gone. Mojo mowed it down," he answered.

On cue, Mojo sauntered into the room. He approached Loki, sniffed his hind foot, then walked over and flopped down in front of Quinn and Puck. Apparently it was a group activity and he wanted to participate.

"See, not even a hiss," Puck said, shaking his head.

Quinn inhaled deeply and blew it out slowly between her lips.

"I don't know what to do for him," she admitted feeling inadequate. It was a feeling she was experiencing too frequently lately.

"Well you're the great cat whisperer," he said, shrugging. "So whisper something."

"I can't fix this," she said, her stomach twisting. "Nothing works."

"Maybe you should...just...let him out," Puck suggested slowly. He flinched, expecting her to react, but she stood listening instead. "I mean, Mojo goes outside and doesn't run off. Maybe, I dunno, maybe if he sees that...well, maybe if he just looks around the yard he'll understand."

"I think he understands," Quinn said. "He's just..."

"Broken," Puck finished her thought. "It's like his little evil spirit is all crushed."

"God, Puck," she said, scowling at him.

"What? It is," he said defensively. "Poor little fucker."

Quinn walked over and sat on the floor next to Loki. He didn't even look at her.

"Loki," she called softly.

He trilled quietly in response and thumped his tail on the floor. This was basically his version of "hello" and "fuck you." She reached to pet him, but he hissed and swatted lazily at her.

"Maybe not entirely crushed," Puck noted with a smirk. "I thought you said you could pet him. "

"Sometimes," she corrected. "I said _sometimes_ I can pet him."

"Well sometime is not today," he observed smugly.

"I've seriously had my fill of crabby cats lately," she told them both, but directed it mostly to the languishing Siamese and he growled back at her. There was still a spark and where there was a spark, there was life.

Someone knocked loudly on the door and all of them jumped at the sound. Normally that was Loki's cue to run away, but he just rolled upside down. Mojo walked over and plopped down expectantly by the door. The door meant people and people usually meant food.

"I suppose you want me to get that?" Puck grumbled, hoisting himself out the his chair. He shuffled to the door and peered through peep hole. "It's yours."

Quinn glance back at him as he flung the door open.

"Enter," he offered, holding the door as Rachel swept inside. She patted him on the chest and smiled. He started to close it, but she stopped him. "Wait. There's more coming. "

Before he could open his mouth to ask, Brittany appeared carrying grocery bags, and Santana trailed behind her bearing a cardboard box and an attitude. She and Puck sneered at each other.

"Make yourself useful, Suckerman," she sniped, pushing the box at him. He fumbled to catch it and leveled a half-hearted kick in her direction as she passed him. Brittany scowled.

"That's not nice," she scolded.

"Only cause I missed," he answered.

"Bad," Brittany replied.

"What's going on?" Quinn asked, climbing to her feet.

Loki lolled around on his back and swept his eyes around to the new faces. When none held his interest he righted himself and resumed his vigil staring out the back door.

"Tell her, Berry," Santana insisted. "This is all on you."

"It's on me, too!" Brittany corrected.

Santana looked at Quinn, rolled her eyes, and began rummaging through the kitchen cabinets.

"Well," Rachel interjected, taking the cue. "It occurred to me that we all..." she swept her finger around the room, glancing at each face. "We all might feel better if we had a wake."

"Oh boy," Puck muttered, wondering if he could get out of the room without being noticed. He placed the box on the kitchen table and waited for his opportunity to slip away.

Quinn's right eyebrow crawled up.

"A wake?" she repeated without enthusiasm.

Rachel nodded solemnly.

"You mean, like, for..." she queried.

"Pie, " Brittany finished with gusto.

Quinn's lips pursed.

"Oh well," Puck said. "That's a no."

"Now before you get all huffy," Rachel insisted, holding up one hand like a stop sign. "Wait, wait, just listen. I thought we could just have a simple little ceremony out in the yard."

She walked over to the box Puck dumped on the table and lifted out a small wooden box. She crossed the room and placed it delicately on the coffee table in front of Quinn. She walked to Quinn and kissed her cheek.

"Hi, baby," she said so softly only Quinn could hear.

"I'm not...following," Quinn said, confused. She pointed at the wooden box. "Are you saying that's..."

"Uh huh, Pie. Well, his ashes," Rachel confirmed.

Quinn found herself at a loss for words and Rachel made use of the opportunity.

"I'm not thinking of anything fancy, mind you. I just thought we might each say something," she explained, her eyes flickered to Quinn who was starting to slowly shake her head.

"Or not," Rachel continued quickly before anyone could object. She walked over and pulled a CD out of the box. "I have taken the liberty of putting together a short tribute video. Brittany helped me out with the music."

"Yay," Brittany said, applauding her own efforts.

"After which we can all spend a quiet moment remembering Pie and saying good-bye," Rachel explained.

"That's, um..." Quinn stammered, looking a bit shell-shocked.

"Stupid," Puck muttered behind his hand.

"Count your blessings," Santana quipped, walking out of the kitchen. Quinn noticed she was now nursing a drink of some sort. "She originally wanted to sit Shiva."

Noah giggled at the thought until both Quinn and Santana shot daggers in his direction and silenced him.

"Rachel," Quinn said evenly, determined to keep herself collected.

"See, told you she wouldn't go for it. Well, that's a wrap," Santana declared smugly. She rifled through the groceries and came up with a bag of cheese puffs, which she promptly opened and began eating.

"Hey, how come she gets to eat?" Puck tattled. Handfuls of orange confetti rained down all around him.

"Don't be ridiculous. She's fine with it," Rachel countered. "Aren't you, Quinn?"

Before Quinn could answer Rachel walked over and wrestled the bag away from Santana.

"Give...me...those," she said gruffly.

"Whaaa?" Santana protested, grabbing a fistful before surrendering the bag. "You're all like "blah, blah, blah" and I'm hungry!"

"Those are for after, " Rachel scolded sharply, stuffing them back into the grocery bag.

"Yeah, after," Puck parroted. Rachel scooped up the salt shaker before Santana could close her hand around it. Santana's eyes shifted over Rachel's head to Quinn. The look was an odd mixture of pleading and rage.

"It's fine," Quinn heard herself saying. All eyes turned in her direction. "What?" she shrugged.  
>"I'm okay with it."<p>

"You are?" both Puck and Santana chimed in unison as Rachel beamed and Brittany clapped.

"Sure," she continued, bending to pick up the carved box. She placed it flat on her palm, surprised that it was so light. "It might be nice."

Puck coughed into his hand "Hhhrrrsofuckingwhippedhhhrr."

Santana's hand shot up to smothered a snicker.

Rachel approached Quinn, laying a hand on her arm. She leaned close, nuzzling.

"Ignore them," she soothed and Quinn nodded in agreement.

"When did you do this?" she asked.

"That night," Rachel answered, her eyes gazing anxious at Quinn. "Actually your vet suggested it. You were so upset so I just agreed to whatever he felt was best. I thought it might offer a nice feeling of closure, but are you really okay with it? "

Quinn nodded slowly. While she wasn't exactly crazy about the idea of a wake, she wasn't going to give Santana the satisfaction of being right. Further, she was touched by Rachel's thoughtfulness and, for that reason alone, she was willing to go along.

"I was going to say something sooner," Rachel confessed. She probably didn't need to keep talking, but it was a nice excuse to stay close to Quinn. "It's just that we haven't see each other much since that day...except for the whole thing with that cat. That certainly didn't seemed to be the right moment."

It was then that she noticed Loki's limp form stretched out on the floor.

"Oh, Quinn. What's the matter with him?" she asked. "I thought you said he was fine."

"I'm not...sure," Quinn admitted, the concern plain on her face. "I mean, he is. He just does that now. He just finds a spot and stays, sometimes all day."

"Poor thing," Rachel murmured.

She immediately squatted down and reached a hand to pet him. Quinn, Puck and Santana all tensed, certain the moody cat was going to shred her hand, but there was no hissing, no swatting. In fact, he hardly reacted at all as she stroked and sweet talked to him.

"He's grieving, too," she announced.

"Right," Santana said, laughing. She splashed her drink. "Oops, got freshen this up."

She drained the glass and walked back into the kitchen for a refill.

"We'll take him with us out in the yard," Rachel announced, pushing herself up from the floor. Puck and Santana immediately chortled, then glared at each other.

"Rachel, we can't do that," Quinn said.

"Sure we can," she persisted, undaunted. She returned to the cardboard box and pulled out a leash and a harness and held them up proudly. "See. I'm nothing if not prepared."

Puck and Quinn's eyes locked briefly.

"You are NOT seriously thinking of putting a leash on_ that _cat, are you?" Puck asked.

"Why not?" Rachel asked in all seriousness. "Mr. Arnstein walks on one."

Quinn coughed to cover a laugh prompted by a visual of Rachel dragging her grumpy sloth of a cat around on the end of a leash. Loki, however, wasn't the type to take anything laying down, least of all a leash and harness.

"Rachel, Nicky's..." Quinn interjected. Well, he's..."

"He's what?" she asked.

_Fat, lazy, spoiled_. Those were the words that sprang to mind, but she held her tongue when faced with Rachel's wide-eyed gaze.

"He's not...Loki, " was the best she could manage.

"Psshhh," Rachel dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

"Cats are cats," she concluded. "You just have to be firm with them. Let them know what you expect."

Santana cackled loudly in the kitchen.

"I'm excited about this, " Puck blurted out, clapping his hands together. "Absolutely, go for it, Rachel. Show us how it's done."

Rachel smiled, clearly pleased that he was agreeing with her.

"Of course you're going to need a snake stick and maybe a taser to get that on him," he added dryly and Rachel's smile faded.

"I will not," she insisted stubbornly. "Besides, Quinn will help me."

Quinn could feel Santana and Puck's eyes fall on her, waiting for her reply.

"I don't think he's going to be too thrilled with that," she said, hoping to lead Rachel back to the safer side of reason.

"Fine," Rachel huffed in annoyance. "I'll just do it myself."

And so she did.

Maybe it was because he was sleepy, maybe it was because he was depressed, maybe it was because it happened too quickly for him to realize what was going on. Whatever the reason, Loki didn't make a fuss when Rachel, who chattered away non-stop, stuffed him into the little sling-style harness. She clipped the leash onto it and kept it loosely looped around her hand as she stood up.

"Ta da," she exclaimed looking more than a little smug. She gave the leash a light tug with no response, then turned and began to gloat to her detractors.

"See, he's perfectly..." was as far as she got before the droning began. It was a low buzzing whine not unlike an angry swarm of bees, the tell-tale sound of a very unhappy cat. Quinn took a step back, dragging Rachel with her. Loki flopped from side-to-side, then began to wiggle backwards across the floor desperate to crawl away from the harness that was holding him. When that didn't work, he shot up in the air, twisting wildly, and landed gracefully on his feet. There was a quiet lull and then he bolted. It was a flat-out panicked run, at least until the leash caught up with him and hurled him backwards. He yowled loudly in surprise.

"Oh, he's not hurt is he?" Rachel wondered, bending to see until Quinn hauled her back.

"Turn him loose!" she barked, wondering why Rachel still insisted on trying to restrain him. Loki made another attempt to flee only to recoil again with a sharp jerk.

"I, I...can't," Rachel said, shaking her hand in a panic. "It's caught on my watch."

"Shit," Quinn hissed and grabbed Rachel's hand, struggling to separate the loop of the leash from the stappy band on Rachel's watch. As near as she could tell a sharp edge on the clasp was hooked through the webbing of the nylon leash.

A spitting levitating ball of fury, Loki flailed around trying to rid himself of either the leash or the harness, but only succeed in tangling it around his legs, hobbling himself. Any cat worth its whiskers knows if you can't flee, fight, and he began chewing his way up the leash, trying to get to the source.

"Quinn?" Rachel whimpered, shaking her arm like a noodle.

"Stop flailing, you're making it worse," Quinn hissed. Rachel whimpered and backed away, dragging Loki with her like a ticking bomb.

"Wait...no," Quinn said. She stepped in front of Rachel, putting herself between Loki's claws and Rachel's bare legs. "Noah, do something!"

Puck's head jerk at the mention of his name, his bewildered expression laughable, but he instinctively stirred into action. He cast about for something, anything, to use as a shield. His eyes landed on the laundry basket. He snatched up a bath towel and cast it out like a trawling net. It deftly settled over Loki.

"Ha!" Puck announced with an air of triumph. "Gotcha, fucker." He reached down and grabbed the squirming lump and was promptly bitten through the fibers for his efforts.

"Mother shit bucket!" he roared, dropping the squealing bundle with a thud.

"Really, Puck?" Quinn scoffed.

No longer worrying about being careful, she pulled hard on the leash, hoping either the leash or the watch band would give way.

"Don't break my watch," Rachel cried, trying to pull her hand back.

"Just stay still," Quinn snapped, frustrated by Rachel's interference. Rachel looked chastised and shrank back.

Meanwhile, Loki popped from beneath the towel, his coat puffed out like some hell-borne dandelion. He turned on Puck.

"Try it you little demon," Puck warned. "I'll boot your ass..."

"Don't you dare hurt him!" Rachel yelled, scowling in Puck's direction.

"Shut up, Rachel," he spat which prompted Quinn to rounded on him.

"You, watch your mouth," she barked, jabbing a finger in his direction. Puck scoffed and held up his bleeding hand.

"Look what he did," he whined, looking for sympathy, but finding none. Loki, however, took Puck's outstretch hand as a fresh opportunity and jumped at it. Puck squealed and stumbled backwards, kicking a footstool at him. The stool tipped over and Loki scurried over it only to find himself, quite literally, at the end of his rope as he dangled several inches off the ground, still swatting and spitting. Puck pelted him with whatever he could put his hands on - loose pieces of mail, a magazine, squeaky toys.

"Puck!" Rachel protested. She tried to kick him, but her legs were too short.

"Quinn!" Puck complained.

"Grrr, Rachel!" Quinn growled, holding her back.

They continued to squabble back and forth as Loki dangled between them, comically bobbing up and down in mid-air, his feet never quite touching the floor.

"San?" Brittany pleaded, a pained expression clouding her features.

Santana rolled her eyes and placed her drink on the counter.

"Idiots," she muttered under breath as she tipped the laundry out of the basket and carried it across the room. Shoving Noah roughly aside,she eased the leash off the footstool and dropped the basket over the hissing cat, trapping him. A tawny paw whipped through the slats, waving frantically.

"Scratch me and you're dead, you demented little weasel," she warned as she moved on to Rachel.

She smacked Quinn's hand out of the way and nimbly unfastened the clasp on Rachel's watch.

"You never were any good undoing girly things," she said.

Rachel giggled, but stopped when she saw Quinn's expression.

With the added slack, Santana made quick work of freeing the watch from the leash and held it up in front of Quinn's face.

"Tick tock," she snarked. Quinn snatched it, glowering.

Immune to Quinn's evil looks, Santana put her foot on the leash and slid it up firmly along the length. As the leash shortened it forced Loki to move to the edge of the makeshift trap, gradually pinning him against the side where he meowed pitifully.

"Not so tough now, rat?" she asked softly.

He gave a pitiful meep.

"You bite me, you die," she warned.

She bent down and carefully worked her fingers between the mesh and unfastened the clasp. Before Loki could get wound up again she raised one corner of the basket. Seeing an opening, the cat scampered wildly for the stairs and vanished to the second floor. Santana stood up and shoved the basket hard into Puck.

"Take care of that, would you?" she demanded. She sauntered back to the counter and reclaimed her drink.

"So," she said, sloshing the ice around the glass noisily. "We're going to take a fifteen minute time out so everyone can cry or bleed or whatever else they need to do to get their shit together, then we're going to pick up where we left off."

She glanced around, pausing to look at each face, leaving Brittany for last and giving her a wink.

"All right, go," she commanded, then resumed lounging with a bored expression while nursing her drink.

Puck stood for a moment, desperate to think of a comeback. Finding none, he gave up and went to put the clean laundry back in the basket.

"Here," Quinn said, taking Rachel's arm. She slipped the watch back around her wrist.

"Oh, thank you," Rachel said, her eyes flitting all around Quinn's face.

"I think it's okay," Quinn observed as she fastened it.

"I guess that wasn't such a great idea, huh," Rachel mumbled sheepishly.

"Not...really," Quinn said lightly. "No."

"You're not mad are you?" Rachel asked nervously.

Quinn shook her head.

"Of course not, " she replied. "But then I didn't get bit either."

"Oh, Noah," Rachel said, biting her lip as she glanced around for Noah. She waited patiently while Quinn finished with her watch.

"There," she said, patting her arm. "Good as new."

"I'm gonna..." Rachel stammered, looking in Noah's direction. "Okay?"

Quinn nodded. Rachel smiled and darted away. After a few steps she double-backed and planted a quick kiss on Quinn's mouth.

"Thank you," she chirped and Quinn chuckled.

Grumbling under his breath, Noah was trying to pick up clothes with only his good hand.

"Here," Rachel said, kneeling beside him. "You're bleeding all over everything."

"Yeah, well..." he said gruffly, cutting his eyes back at her briefly.

"Let me," she offered quietly and quickly gathered the remaining items into the basket. They both stood at the same time and shifted awkwardly.

"I can maybe..." Rachel said, reaching for his injured hand and taking it in hers. "Let's get this cleaned up." She led him over to the sink and made a quiet fuss about washing the wound thoroughly.

"Owww," he complained repeatedly, but didn't pull away.

"Almost done," she told him, rinsing the suds away. She patted his hand dry with paper towels.

"There, see," she said, smiling. "It's hardly even bleeding anymore. I'll just bandage it up, okay?"

He grunted and nodded and let her lead him to the kitchen table.

"Aren't they a cute couple?" Santana asked as she sidled up alongside Quinn, who was watching Rachel bandage Noah's hand. Quinn rolled her eyes, refusing to comment.

"It's all very Beauty and the Beast," she continued. "Her Faye Wray to his King Kong. I can totally see him scooping her up and swinging through the trees, taking her off to show her his little crooked green banana."

"Enough," Quinn said evenly, trying not to smile.

Santana hooted under breath, then held up her pinky and crooked it.

"Actual size," she quipped. Quinn slapped her hand away, chuckling.

"Oh, you're no fun," Santana remarked, exhaling slowly. "You used to be fun."

"Did I?" Quinn asked. "I don't remember."

Santana nudged against her shoulder.

"Sure you did," she said. "Back when we were all young, and pretty, and thought we would set the world on fire."

"God, what the hell?" Quinn asked, scowling at her. "Stop drinking already. You always were a moody drunk."

"Nope, I'm just... honest," she said.

"So be honest then, are things better?" Quinn asked pointedly, nodding toward Rachel.

Santana shrugged.

"Meh, I suppose," she replied. "Some days are okay. Some not so much."

Quinn frowned.

"She's always good with me," she noted.

"Of course, she is," Santana said. "She doesn't want to scare you off."

"Santana," Quinn warned, unamused.

"Seriously, you profess your undying affection and give her cookies and sex, why wouldn't she be fine?" Santana asked.

"I don't... " Quinn protested, until she realized it was true. "Oh, shut up."

Santana smirked.

"That's not why," Quinn argued weakly.

"Oh sure," Santana agreed.

"It's just... if she's unhappy, I want to know why," Quinn added, fretting out loud. "Don't you?"

"Not really, no," Santana admitted. Quinn scoffed.

"Frankly, I still think we should drug test her," Santana suggested.

Quinn turned and glared hard at her. Santana held up her hands, her expression a mask of innocence.

"All right, all right. Just a thought," she professed, walking away. As she walked past Rachel and Puck she leaned down and hooted, then laughed madly.

Rachel looked at Quinn in confusion, but Quinn just shook her head and tipped back an imaginary glass.

Thirty minutes later their little group of five gathered in the corner yard. They picked a spot towards the back where there were nice shade trees and lots of flowers. The one thing they could all agree on was it was a very good spot.

"Dude would have approved," Puck proclaimed. "The Z-man, he hung out back here on hot days. He'd bring his ball back and just zzzz out."

"I think the flowers are pretty," Brittany added. "He'll have bees and hummingbirds to keep him company."

"Don't forget rabbits," Santana noted.

"Oh yeah, rabbits, too," Brittany said, beaming at Santana. "I like rabbits."

"You do," Santana confirmed.

"Well, I didn't know Z-man nearly as well as all of you," Rachel said. "But I do think it's quite a lovely spot. It's very peaceful and you can certainly see the house and the rest of the yard. It's a very restful place."

Rachel glanced to Quinn for her reaction, but she just kept her head down, staring at her feet.

"Are we cool, Quinn?" he asked. "Is this okay?"

"Fine," she answered and offered nothing more.

Rachel watched as Brittany looked over to Santana, who was watching Quinn as well. Catching her eye, she gave Brittany a quick smile and took her hand. Brittany opened her mouth, but Santana squeezed her hand and held a single finger up at her lips and Brittany nodded.

"Okay, then," Puck said. He grabbed a shovel leaning against a nearby tree trunk and began to dig a hole in the soft earth. He made quick work, piling the dirt neatly and keeping the thatch of lush grass ready to replace when they were finished.

"I think that should do it," he said, dragging a forearm across his damp forehead. "Wake away."

Rachel set up her tablet up on the chair Puck carried down for her and hit "play." Soon the screen was filled with video footage and photos of Pie's happy life: memories, milestones, quiet moments. There was Pie as a puppy with a very young Quinn and Santana laughing and chasing him, as a young dog riding with a bearded Puck in his shiny new truck, with Brittany and Quinn as they unsuccessfully attempted to bathe him, Pie sleeping on the couch beside a snoring Puck, who sported a marker-drawn mustache, with Loki following him around in the house, sleeping with him in his bed, swatting at his waving tail, and chewing on his ear. There were even photos from his last good days laying on the deck with his tennis ball while Rachel talked to him.

As the pictures splashed across the screen, there was steady mix of music. First, there was an upbeat guitar piece asking them to "keep me in your heart for a while."

"That's me and Sam," Brittany said proudly when the lyrics began. "I did the "sha-na-na" part by myself."

Everyone laughed.

That song segued into a piano piece with a soaring solo vocalist.

"I'm okay now. You can go now. Goodbye my friend."

Brittany leaned over to Quinn and whispered, "That's Rachel."

Quinn turned to Rachel who uncharacteristically duck her head, embarrassed.

When the video ended, Rachel stepped up again.

"If you want to say something, now would be good," she suggested. "Or if you just want to put something with him – we have some of his things here."

Rachel picked up a small bag that had some toys and other things.

"So, anybody?" Rachel asked, looking around the group. To her surprise Santana stepped forward, swaying slightly. She reached into the bag and pulled out what looked like a stuffed animal with all the stuffing pulled out.

"I can't count how many times you made me throw this nasty thing for you," she said, rubbing her finger on the toy's only remaining plastic eye. "Yeah, so it's right here for you, okay?." She dropped the toy into the hole, paused to rest her fingers on the wooden box, and stepped back. She muttered something that might have been "silly dog" and wiped her eyes quickly.

Puck stepped up and picked up a chew toy and dropped into the hole.

"Mad love for you," he said, tapping his chest. "You were a good pal, awesome wing man. Peace, Z-Man," he added and stepped back.

Brittany followed and announced she was going to read a poem she'd written. She cleared her throat several times.

"Dear Mr. Pie," she said in her earnest, child-like manner. "Hi, it's me, Brittany."

By the time she ended with "Happily ever after, amen" everyone was sniffling and wiping their eyes. She put a box of animal crackers in with the other items and whispered loudly," Cause we know they're not made from animals and they're really just yummy."

Everyone looked expectantly at Quinn who stayed put. To break the awkward silence, Rachel stepped up.

"Obviously I don't have the history you guys have, but I know how much he loved you all and how much you loved him. So, in light of that..." She reached behind the chair and picked up flat stone marker. "I thought this would be a nice way of honoring that."

It had an etched photo of Pie with his head between his paw staring at his tennis ball along with his name and the phrase "Life goes on, love remains." She handed it awkwardly to Puck.

"So I guess if that's all," she said, wringing her hands. "Puck."

Puck gathered up the tiny box with Pie's ashes and fumbled around trying to pull the lid off. Rachel watched him, her face twisting nervously as he struggled. Santana rolled her eyes hard and checked her watch.

"Before you fluff him all up in your face, maybe try sliding it off," she said suggested impatiently.

Puck snorted and pushed on a corner. The lid glided off easily revealing a cellophane bag filled with gray ash.

"So I just like...?" Puck asked Rachel and motioned to the hole he dug. Rachel's eyes drifted over to Quinn, but she was staring blankly up into the tree.

"Mmm hmm," she said and nodded to Puck.

He took the ashes gingerly and was poised to spill them in, when Quinn spoke up.

"Wait, " she said sharply. "Just...wait."

She rubbed the back of her neck anxiously.

"This is wrong," she said.

"Quinn," Brittany said, taking a step towards her. "I can do it if you want."

"No, B," she said, stopping her. "The toys, the marker – that's all fine, but I can't let you just pour... those in a hole in the ground. It's not... let me have them."

She approached Puck and reached out for the ashes.

"Please," she added.

He smiled and handed them to her. With a heavy sigh, she took the bag in both hands.

"Thank you, all of you, for doing this," she said, managing a smile. "I never expected anything like this. I hope you know it really means so much to me." She hefted the ashes in her hand. "Come on, old man."

She walked along the flower bed and sprinkled some of the ashes, then she back around the tree doing the same. She ran up on the deck and all around the yard scattering more. When she came back there was a small portion left in the corner of the bag.

"I think I wanna keep these," she said. Puck held up the box and she placed them back inside and closed the lid. "Thank you."

To his surprise, she hugged him. She went around the group, hugging each of them, stepping carefully around the gaping hole in the ground.

"I'ma fill this in before someone breaks a leg," Puck announced, going to retrieve the shovel.

"Oh,absolutely, yes. Good idea," Rachel agreed, nodding. "It's certainly a safety liability."

"Wait," Quinn said. She rummaged through the bag of belongings and came up with a well-chewed tennis ball. "Can't forget this," she said and dropped it in with the other items. "All right, we're good now."

She stood and watched as Puck pushed dirt back into the space and then placed Rachel's marker on the top. He got on his knees and scooped handfuls of dirt in around it so that it was snug.

"We good, Q?" he asked, squinting up at Quinn. She rubbed his head and pushed a flower behind his ear.

"Beautiful," she proclaimed.

"So can we please eat already?" Santana fussed. "Some of us actually have lives, you know?"

"Yes, Santana," Rachel said. "You may eat."

Santana approached her and made a show of quietly clapping her hands.

"Nice job, Berry, " she whispered, bumping shoulders with her as she passed. "If only you could have your shit this tight all the time."

"Thank... you?" Rachel answered.

Puck stumbled past her dragging a chair and carrying the shovel. He had a bag tucked under his chin and one beneath each arm. Brittany followed carrying the box with Pie's remaining ashes held out in front of her like a fragile icon.

"Come on, Brittany," Puck wheezed. "At least take the shovel."

Quinn knelt quietly, brushing dirt and grass off the marker.

"I think I'll ask Puck to put a bench down here," she said as Rachel approached. "Maybe a fountain."

Rachel put her hand on Quinn's head.

"That would be perfect," she said. "Very Zen-ish."

Quinn stood up and lazily draped her arm around Rachel's shoulders, pulling her close.

"You're very Zen-ish," she said, leaning in for a kiss.

"Mmmm, Jewish, actually, " Rachel corrected and Quinn laughed.

"I'll consider this a mitzvah then," she said and Rachel's eyes widened as their lips touched.

"Rachel," Brittany called loudly from the house.

Quinn whined and Rachel shushed her.

"Come on," she said, taking her by the hand. "You're the one who said never to leave them alone in the house too long."

She started walking backwards toward the house, pulling Quinn along.

"Maybe just this once?" Quinn suggested, following reluctantly. "We could sneak away? Have dinner? Find a motel?"

"That sounds divine," Rachel admitted. The dreamy look in her eye was giving Quinn hope, but then she glanced at her watch. "It will just be hard to fit all that into an hour and 20 minutes."

Rachel winced waiting for Quinn's reaction. Quinn stopped walk and her shoulders slumped in resignation.

"Seriously?" she asked, her voice a monotone.

"Mmmm hmm," Rachel replied.

Quinn's head lolled back and she stared blankly into the clouds. Rachel immediately began apologizing.

"I know, I know. I'm so sorry," she insisted. "It's to make up the one I missed earlier when I..."

"Fine, fine, it's fine," Quinn said dismissively, not wanting to listen to the details. She started walking again with Rachel now tagging along beside her.

"Quinn," she buzzed, clearly bent on a having discussion.

"It's fine, Rachel," Quinn said flatly. She kept walking, not making eye contact. Rachel kept repeating her name and struggling to keep up with her. Quinn finally stopped and faced her."Really, Rachel, it's fine."

Rachel paused and took a deep breath, collecting herself. She smoothed her hair to keep her hands busy.

"Quinn," she said pointedly. "I know it's frustrating and I certainly appreciate that you've been so patient and understanding about this situation. Frankly, I'm amazed you're so patient," she added with a laugh. "If things were reversed, well, suffice to say it would be a much different scenario."

Rachel rambled on and Quinn's eyes rolled up. She rubbed her forehead.

"... I'm sure we can come to a solution that would be acceptable to us both. Maybe, maybe... maybe we could just..."

"Rachel!" Quinn said, grabbing her by both arms. Rachel fell silent and looked nervous.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked, staring straight at her. Rachel's head bobbed up and down quickly. "Stop freaking out. We're all good." To confirm it, she cupped her chin and kissed her. "Got it?"

She began walking again, determined not to let the day be spoiled by arguing.

"Let's just enjoy the rest of the time we do have today," she added.

"All right, " Rachel agreed, scurrying to catch up to her.

"But I still meant what I said," Quinn continued. "I need to see you more. For real, even if it is only for 15 minutes at a time. I want that much for being so, what was it, patient and understanding?"

Rachel grinned and took her arm.

"You forgot wonderful," she said.

"I did, didn't I?" Quinn said, tapping her palm to her forehead. "I always forget that."

"And beautiful," Rachel continued.

"I'm not sure about that," Quinn said.

"Humble, too," Rachel said.

"Well, I'm not one to boast, you know," she agreed.

The climbed the steps of the deck, hand-in-hand and started toward the door when they heard Brittany exclaim, "Eww, San, that's so gross! It's all over you."

"I am NOT cleaning that up," Puck declared. "No fucking way."

"Just get Quinn!" Santana yelped.

Quinn stopped and looked at Rachel.

"Can I interest you in a tour of the garage?" she asked.

Rachel smiled and nodded.

"That sounds lovely," she said, following behind her as they disappeared giggling around the side of the house.

****=^..^=****


End file.
